


My Life is a Movie

by Tenoko1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Musical, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 1.5-2 Hours, Romance, Songfic, case!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenoko1/pseuds/Tenoko1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started out a simple case. Then it got complicated. And thank you very much, but Dean Winchester does NOT appreciate his life having a soundtrack like a freaking chick flick, even it's starting to resemble one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Podfic version is recommended for the full effect of the story as it progresses.  
>   
> [m4b](http://www.mediafire.com/download/k4k0cs47tjma6dk/MLIAM_m4b.zip) l mp3: [1](http://www.mediafire.com/download/m1hkhk4wkto30aq/MLIAM_01.mp3) | [2](http://www.mediafire.com/download/bc233r0gt89aa8c/MIAM_02.mp3) | [3](http://www.mediafire.com/download/2kefjtob2upcsnt/MLIAM_03.mp3) | [4](http://www.mediafire.com/download/68yzxa6nd249l6y/MLIAM_04.mp3) l [The movie poster](http://tenoko1.tumblr.com/post/87167425078/original-text-post-and-podfic-l-on-the-archive)  
> 

Title: My Life is a Movie  
Author: Tenoko1  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: It started out a simple case. Then it got complicated. And thank you very much, but Dean Winchester does NOT appreciate his life having a soundtrack like a freaking chick flick, even it's starting to resemble one.  
AN: For the most part, I’m going to ignore the events after season five. And Sam isn't in Hell.

 

Standing in the middle of the street, both Sam and Dean regarded the scene in front of them, the mannequins arranged on the crosswalk in a mock of the famous Beatles photograph. They were Federal Agents this week, Sam with his hands on his hips and head angled to the side, whilst Dean stood with his arms folded over his chest and lips pursed.

“I don’t get it, Sam,” stated Dean finally.

His brother shrugged, reaching to tug at his tie, then stopping himself and running a hand through his hair instead. He glance around the street that had been closed off. This was a crime scene, after all.

“Art mimics life,” he offered lightly, though clearly not getting the point anymore than Dean did.

It wasn’t just the four mannequins on the cross walk. There were mannequins arranged on the sidewalk, fully dressed, bags in hand, like people out shopping, a woman pushing a stroller, a woman being led by the hand by a toddler, two people sitting on the bench chatting, one stood at the bus stop. Except they were all mannequins.

“And we checked with the local cops that no one has been reported missing right? None of these things were actually people once, were they?”

With a sigh, Sam nodded. “Everyone is accounted for. It’s just…” His gaze drifted to the bridal shop and clothing boutique that all the mannequins had been commandeered from. “It’s just some elaborate prank.” He sighed again, scratching the back of his head at a loss. “It may not even be related to the other events that have been taking place around town. It could be just someone taking advantage of the other things in order to play an elaborate hoax.”

The proprietors of the two shops were watching them anxiously from the sidewalk in front their stores, both women whispering to each other, their heads angled together. With a wordless nod, the brothers split apart, Sam going to inform the women that they would be allowed to retrieve their inventory and open, while Dean moved to inform the on-scene police officers that they could reopen the street for traffic and civilians.

Being that it was close enough to lunch, the boys loosened their ties a touch and went to the diner near their motel, files detailing the recent events in the town open in front of both of them as they ordered and then ate their lunch and discussed the case.

So far the only definite pattern they had was the fact that, well, weird stuff was happening all over town. All the whites to go into the washers at the local Laundromat came out pink. Every time. The traffic lights flicked to different colors at random and with no real timing sequence. Salt kept getting used instead of sugar at the bakery. And the coffee shop. Relatively harmless, albeit annoying, pranks were happening all over town, but it wasn’t until a pickup truck found its way into the branches of a tree like someone had picked it up and put it there that the Winchesters went to investigate.

Bobby had called them with the job, and well, they were closer than he was, so it made sense for them to at least swing by to even see if it was there kind of thing or not.

Dean let his eyes sweep over the diner, it’s staff, and patrons. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about this town. It was small, picturesque almost to the point of being cliché. Everyone knew each other. You could pretty much walk the entire town, there really was no need for a car. Many people were seen walking or riding a bike to get where they needed to be.

Waving to their waitress, Dean gave the middle-aged woman a charming smile and ordered a slice of warm pie with ice cream, giving her his most charming smile when she returned with it, causing her tired expression to shift into a slight smile.

“I dunno, Sammy,” Dean said finally. “I really don’t know if this is our schtick, I mean, aside from a truck in a tree, nothing here screams malevolent supernatural forces, and even that wasn’t malevolent, since no one was hurt, just inconvenienced.”

Those big brown eyes flicked to him, then down, almost in defeat. “I was thinking the same thing. It’s just weird and there’s no real reason for any of it. No ‘why’ or ‘how’, and that still bothers me. If it isn’t something supernatural, well, someone should have figured it out already, seen something. If it’s supernatural, well, it makes no sense as to ‘what’ or ‘why’, but then there’s no way to explain how else that truck could have gotten in the tree or why the clothes keep coming out pink when the washers have been checked and serviced and nothing is wrong with any of them.”

Dean took a bite of his apple pie and vanilla ice cream, faltering to release an indecent sound of enjoyment while his brother made a face, before the elder Winchester composed himself to speak. “The truck is the only reason we’re still here, the only reason we’re here to begin with. The one thing we’ve learned is that no trick is pulled more than once. The washers were only screwed up the one day. Once the traffic lights were fixed, there were no more malfunctions. It may be that the perp simply isn’t interested in pulling the same stunt more than once, or the risk of exposure is greater after having done it the first time, and there’s no opportunity for a repeat performance.”

Sam’s gaze snapped up to him, as though realizing something. “Trick,” he repeated. “A prank.” Green eyes regarded him, waiting for further explanation. “You don’t think this could be… I mean, it’s not exactly his M.O. but pranks are pranks and well…”

Dean blinked, regarding his brother seriously. “You want to know if it could be the Trickster.”

Sam shrugged and dropped his gaze, pushing around one of his fries in the ketchup like it required all of his attention. “I-I mean, I know he’s dead, or did a very convincing job of making it look like he did, wouldn’t be the first time-“

“It’s not Tuesday,” interjected Dean, causing Sam to look up in confusion. His brother clarified, “It’s not Tuesday. I’m still alive. No one has died in any of these pranks. No one has even been involved in any of these pranks, just affected by them. I don’t think Gabriel is behind this. In fact, seeing as how the apocalypse is over and it would be perfectly safe for him to return to his family if he had faked his death, and yet he hasn’t- or else Cas would have told us- it makes me believe that Goldilocks, in fact, bit the big one and his old man saw no reason to revive him.”

Sam nodded in agreement, gaze dropping again in a way that made Dean frown at him, gaze flicking over his younger sibling’s face. “You’re disappointed,” he pointed out finally, a little surprised and more than a little incredulous.

His little brother shrugged, mulling over the statement as he contemplated the remaining fries on his plate with disinterest. “It would be easy if that was all it was, I guess. As long as he’s not killing anyone.” He seemed to struggle, before looking at his brother for understanding. “And I just… I feel kinda bad, you know? He wanted to stay out of the fighting with his family, we dragged him into it, and no sooner does he agree to pick a side then his big brother murders him.” He dropped his gaze and shook his head. “I just feel like it could have been handled better if we’d had a minute to think and plan.”

“Yeah, except we didn’t, dude,” pointed out Dean. “Lucifer was on his way. We had to get the heck out of Dodge, and were only able to because Blondie Bear decided to grow a pair and stand up to his family. He didn’t pick a side, though, dude. I think he would have yelled at both Michael and Lucifer for being dumbasses. He didn’t pick Michael over Lucifer. I don’t think he even chose to fight for free will. He just wanted to talk sense into his brother and for the fighting to stop. It’s the reason he ran away to begin with.”

“Could be another trickster, then,” offered Sam. “A real one this time.”

“Except no has died and there’s no unexplainable phenomenon,” countered Dean. “Hard to explain? Sure. Truck in a tree? Malfunctioning washers that all seem like they are in top working order and haven’t been messed with? Doesn’t mean they are supernatural just because we can’t figure them out. I say we head back to Bobby’s and start looking for our next case.”

His brother considered this a moment, clearly debating. Between the two of them, Sam had always been more willing to stick to a case that had little to no evidence of supernatural relation. Dean probably wouldn’t have bothered to come out here to even look at the case a year ago.  
Bad example. A year ago they were saving the world from an apocalypse because Lucifer had recently risen and they were eye ball deep in trouble and sinking.

A few years ago, Dean wouldn’t have bothered with such a ‘possibly, maybe, might be supernatural, but not really sure’ case. And not every supernatural case called for their expertise, after all. Not everything supernatural was malevolent, there were plenty of things out there that were harmless and the Winchesters just left them alone.

“Let’s call Bobby and see what he says,” offered Sam in compromise. “If he says he thinks there’s nothing here, we’ll load up the car and be done with it.”

 

Bobby thought it wasn’t their kind of gig.

With that confirmation, they had loaded up, and gone to get the heck out of Dodge. Upon leaving town was when they realized, okay, something very well supernatural was at work here.

“My car!” cried out Dean, both accusingly and in disbelief, his hands in his hair and eyes wide.

“I know, Dean,” Sam said again, placating. They stood in the road where Dean had been forced to pull off, both of them regarding the Impala, her hood up and smoke pouring off the engine as though they’d lit a bon fire on her.

“But my car!” explained Dean again, this time more angrily as he jabbed a finger at his baby. “I don’t care what you do with mannequins, or socks, or trucks in trees, but I’ll be damned if any sonuvabitch messes with my car and gets away with it! My baby doesn’t break down, Sammy! Ever! I take too good of care with her!”  
His younger brother nodded. Dean’s car was in better working order than most cars fresh off the lot.

“She’s always in immaculate order,” agreed Sam. He glanced at the sign stating they were leaving city limits, the sign they hadn’t quite managed to get as far as. “So something is keeping us here?”

“And now it has to die,” growled Dean, as he moved over to pet his car apologetically. “Oh baby, I’m sorry they did this to you. I’ll have you better in no time, I promise.”

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean’s obsession with that car was ridiculous. He had an almost reverence for it.

“I bet you secretly have a thing for pet names,” Sam stated, regarding the way Dean was still talking softly to the car as he fanned away the last of the smoke so he could peer at the engine. “If you ever find someone to stick with you for the long haul.” Dean gave him a confused and irritated glance over his shoulder, silently demanding ‘Do you hear the stupid coming out of your mouth or did your tourettes kick in again?’ “I bet you use names like ‘sweetheart’ and ‘doll face’ and-“ He was cut abruptly short when Dean removed his suit jacket and threw it at Sam’s face.

“Would you shut up and get my tool kit out of the trunk,” he demanded, carefully rolling up his sleeves.

Sam folded the jacket and tossed it in the back seat. “Hey, you’re the one who called Gabriel ‘Blondie Bear’ and ‘Goldilocks’ earlier today.”

“In _mocking_ , Sam,” quipped Dean, yanking off his tie and throwing it in the backseat with his jacket. “Not in seriousness.”

Regardless, Sam got his brother’s tool kit and stood back, hands on his hips as he watched his brother pour over the engine with hawk like eyes, the eyes of a proficient surgeon.

“Shouldn’t we call a tow truck? Get her back to the motel before you start working on her?”

Dean’s head snapped around to stare at him. “And risk some idiot messing up her front end alignment? Are you crazy?”

“Yeah, but if what’s keeping us here thinks you’re just fixing her to get out of town, it might break something more seriously while you’re elbow deep in her, and this time, you might get hurt in the process.”

Green eyes seemed to consider this, flicking to the woods on either side of the back roads highway. He straightened, hands in the air in a gesture of surrender.  
“We’re staying,” he called out to the woods. “You hear? Let me fix her and get her back to town though. To our motel. Don’t try to break my baby again or you will have officially gotten on my shit list, you understand? My car is off limits for pranks if you don’t want me to gank you when I find you.” He turned slowly, eyes scanning the tree line. Sam stiffened, letting his own eyes search the greenery and foliage, feeling the eyes on them.

Dean was calling out again. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? For us to find you? That’s part of your game, isn’t it? The humans in this town won’t think to come looking, but you know we aren’t regular humans. Don’t pull another stunt on my car and we’ll play your game. We’ll even let you live so long as your pranks don’t escalate to harming people. Capeesh?”

After a moment, Dean turned back to his car’s engine, one hand reaching for the bag Sam still held.

“You think that worked?” his brother questioned.

Dean mulled over the engine, hands spread wide and gaze assessing. “I think it can’t keep everyone trapped here without garnering serious attention. It’s watching everyone, though, and therefore knows we aren’t like everyone. All of the pranks draw attention. It wants attention, recognition for its efforts. The big Ta-Da. It’s not going to get that from a bunch of humans, but hunters? Yeah. He wants us to stick around and see if we can’t figure him out. It’s challenging us.”

Nodding, Sam’s brown eyes drifted over the woods around them, then back to his brother who was already getting to work fixing his car. “Maybe we ought to call Cas.”

Dean looked at him like he’d just blasphemed. “Dude. This is an easy case. We’re basically playing hide-and-go-seek. We do not need to bother Cas for this. We don’t need his help.”

Sam shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. “No, not for help.” Dean’s expression softened from insulted to confused. “How often do we work a case where it’s just some harmless, mischievous element of the supernatural world doing nothing but having some fun? He might get a kick out of our having a case that doesn’t involve bloodshed. At seeing a creature from back when the world was a simpler place.”

Dean looked dubious, shaking his head and returning his attention to his car. “I dunno. I hate to bother him with trivial stuff. I’m sure he’s busy doing something important somewhere now that the apocalypse is over. I don’t want to overstep with him, angels and humans have completely different mentality. To him, it might have just been strange bedfellows, our partnership before. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all.”

Sam scoffed. “You totally don’t believe that and you know it.” He folded his arms and gave his brother’s back a face, knowing full well Dean could probably feel the effects of it without actually having to see Sam’s expression. “You’re just insecure that now that the world’s saved, he no longer has a reason to be friends with us, you’re on your whole ‘I don’t deserve something this good in my life’ schtick again.”

Dean straightened, moving to put his hands on his hips, then faltered, remembering they were covered in grease. He wouldn’t meet Sam’s gaze. “It’s just… he’s an angel, Sam. A real angel, like what an angel should be, not like the kind of angel his siblings all were. He’s…” He faltered and shook his head. “I dunno. ‘Hope’ and ‘Cas’ are kind of the same thing in my head, this amazing thing that can make the world a better place, can change an impossible situation into something better. He’s better than hanging out with a couple of lowly human hunters, he’s probably off saving the world and changing lives and kicking people’s asses in Heaven so that they think for themselves and strive to be half as awesome as he is.” 

Sam quirked a brow. “Castiel: A change we can believe in, huh?” His brother shrugged and turned back to his car. “You’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Yeah, rather than waiting for him to say ‘hey, I’m done with ya’ll, it’s been real, but I’m leaving you mud monkeys to it and headed back home’, rather than risking the pain of hearing that, you’re cutting him off instead. You’re doing the leaving so that he can’t. Because if he did say goodbye permanently, you wouldn’t know how to deal.”

“Shut up, Sam, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” groused Dean, elbow deep in his car.

“No, Dean, I think I kind of do,” argued Sam gently. “Cas is the first friend you’ve ever had. The first real friend you ever had. You can’t lie and charm him or pass off a façade with him. The guy met you when he pulled you out of Hell where you were the rising star of the King of Torture himself. Way I’ve heard tell, you’d have surpassed Alistair- if you hadn’t already. Cas knows everything you’ve ever done on Earth and in Hell and he cares about you anyway, has stuck by your side anyway, believed in you and damn well died, more than once I might add, in order to help you.” Dean had stopped working on the car and stood poised with stiff shoulders. Sam could see the muscles in his jaw twitching and flexing as Dean clenched and unclenched his teeth, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed thickly. “Where as even family has always let you down and disappointed you: Cas never has. Cas has never walked out on you, not willingly anyway. Not like I have. Not like Dad did. So you’re avoiding even giving him the opportunity, because if he ever did walk out of our lives and go back to Heaven or whatever, you don’t know how you’ll manage to deal. And that scares you, doesn’t it?”

Clearly taking a deep breath, struggling to get his anger under control, Dean slammed the hood to his car shut in a way that made Sam wince. Any other car, sure, but Dean never slammed his baby like that.

The elder sibling moved around to get in the driver’s side, shooting a sideways glare at Sam. “You can either shut up or walk back to town.”

“I’ll walk.”

Dean gave him a cold look. “Suit yourself.”

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Sam watched as Dean cranked his car, put it in drive, and made a U-turn, all while pointedly refusing to look at Sam. The taller Winchester watched as the car retreated in the distance, and the taillights disappeared around the bend, leaving him alone on the side of the highway.

Or, perhaps, not alone.

“You can go ahead and show yourself now,” he said gently. He paused. “How much did you hear?”

“Not much,” admitted Cas, stepping up beside him. “From ‘where as family’. I knew you two seemed to be discussing me, and Dean was growing increasingly… upset, I thought perhaps it best I show up in case you were in trouble.”

Sam nodded and began walking, Castiel easily matching pace with him despite the taller man’s much longer stride.

“I apologize if I intruded when I should not have,” offered the angel.

Sam shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, but don’t let Dean know you overheard anything. As far as he’s to know, I called you to see if you were interested in joining us on this case we’re working on.”

“What case is that?”

“Some sort of prankster that wants us to catch him. We’re not sure what. He made Dean’s car break down though when we decided to leave town as this wasn’t our kind of case. Dean made it a deal: we’ll stick around to track it down so long as it doesn’t hurt anyone and it doesn’t mess with the Impala again.”

“How did Dean make a deal with it if you still have to track it down?”

Sam shrugged. “Figured it’s watching us.”

Castiel nodded and they walked the next mile or two in silence, Sam’s thoughts introverted until he finally glanced at the angel walking beside him.

“What are you going to do?” Cas said nothing at first, but Sam knew he understood. The angel remained silent. Sam let it go and asked a different question, “How are things in Heaven?”

“Different,” answered the shorter man. “Things are changing. The idea of free will is not as scandalous as it once was. Obedience without making a choice to be, isn’t as meaningful as choosing to be a diligent servant. We’re organizing to… do tours, I suppose is the phrase. To alternate groups of angels that walk the earth and among humans in disguise so that we are better able to protect them, to empathize with their plights and show compassion. We have been disconnected with our Father’s fellow creatures for far too long and it has cost us something very dear we were too late in realizing. Our pride wrought strife and division, prejudice. There are angels now, far too many, who have no knowledge of a time when things were done differently. I was one of them until I met you and your brother.”

“So where do you stand in all of this? Is it okay for you to be on earth? How long can you stay?”

Cas said nothing. 

 

When they finally made their way back to the motel- Cas never once offered to angel express them there, and Sam wouldn’t have accepted it if he had, which he thinks Cas knew- Dean had changed into ripped jeans and an old shirt and was under the Impala, perhaps doing further repairs or just giving her a thorough look over to make sure whatever had jinxed her earlier didn’t do any further or permanent damage. Sam didn’t think it did, after all, Dean was quite serious in his promise that if whatever was causing all the pranks around town so much as hurt his car in any way again, Dean would kill it without remorse or a second thought.  
You did not come between a man and his car. Especially not this man and this car.

Sam kicked lightly at Dean’s exposed boots. “Dean. Look who’s here.”

“Hi Cas,” greeted Dean without coming out from under the car.

The response was automatic, like he’d been expecting his brother to show up with the angel. The younger Winchester figured Dean knew him well enough to know that Sam would have gone through with his idea to include the angel on this particular hunt that was the exception and not the case.

“Hello Dean.” He paused, head angled to one side as he regarded Dean’s boots most seriously. “I understand your mischievous friend crossed into near blasphemous territory by assaulting your car.”

Sam snorted a laugh, turning to cover his mouth with his hand. Using one foot, Dean rolled out from under the car, laying on his back and staring at the angel standing over him, a clearly amused expression on the hunter’s face.

“Yes, yes it did. Glad you’re here in case we have to get our smite on with the little bitch.”

“Smitey McSmiterson, at your service. I aim to please.”

Dean snorted with laughter, an easy grin slipping on to his face. Sam knew their earlier argument was forgiven and things between them were okay again seeing that.

His brother looked at him. “Sammy, why don’t you go in and order a pizza or something while I finish up here. I’m starved.”

The taller male rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna have to get a shower before I agree to sit down anywhere near you, dude. You smell like oil and antifreeze.”

“That’s because the bastard disconnected the line to my anti freeze and it was leaking all over the place, smart ass.” Dean kicked out blindly at him as he rolled himself under his car, connecting solidly with Sam’s shin.

The younger of the two rolled his eyes and jerked his head toward their room. “C’mon Cas. What kind of pizza do you feel like?”

The angel shrugged. “I can pick off whatever toppings I would not care for.”

“That means get a Supreme,” called out Dean from under the car, giving his brother pause, looking back. “I give Cas my veggies, he gives me the meat off of his.”

Sam looked inquiringly at the angel walking beside him. Cas nodded. “That is typically what takes place,” he agreed.

Nodding they continued into the motel, Sam trying to think back to the times Cas had shared meals with them and wondering why he’d never noticed this pattern before, that Dean and Cas had somehow synced into a rhythm with each other.

\--  
The next day, Sam and Dean woke up to a room covered in glitter. Like Vegas Show girls had done their entire routine in the one small room and no surface had been spared. Sam had done the groveling to the motel staff, but luckily, it was well known at this point that someone was going around pulling ridiculous pranks, and the manager had been apologetic and had the locks to all the rooms changed and upgraded to newer ones. Dean had laughed his ass off as even after having gotten a shower, Sam still had glitter in his hair.

In return, Sam had to bite back a laugh as Cas reached out to Dean, cupping the hunter’s jaw in his hand, and used his thumb to brush away glitter from under Dean’s eye and along his cheekbone, the barest hint of an amused smile on the angel’s face. Dean had blinked with a start at the contact, but allowed it, a clearly confused expression on his face and a tinge of pink to go with the spatter of freckles and glitter.

The next day, chalk outlines of people in various poses covered the sidewalks through out town, some even drawn in the road. Once again, police had had to make certain everyone in town was accounted for and unharmed.

Then the bakery had an incident with the dough and yeast mixture that no one could explain, but suffice to say they ended up with far, far, far too much bread. So much so, they were practically giving baskets of rolls away. You bought the basket, the rolls were free, all proceeds went to charity. Cas seemed content with this idea as the three of them strolled down the sidewalk, Sam holding the basket, and all three of them practically inhaling the fresh baked bread like they’d never had it before, in which case, they hadn’t. Also in which case, there is nothing that can compare to fresh baked bread.

All the apples at the market were suddenly candy and carmel apples, wrapped in brightly colored cellophane and tied with ribbons.

The line of trees down Main St. were tee-pee’d, long strands of white toilet paper hanging like tinsel from a Christmas tree.

Stop signs in town had an added note tacked up, making them read ‘Stop. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.’

Sam thought the whole thing was kind of amusing and really wasn’t much help as far as wanting to hunt it down went. Cas seemed to share the sentiment, Dean catching him biting back a smirk and a laugh, and trying most unsuccessfully to pass it off as a cough. He was really terrible at lying to Dean.

“Okay, well, if there were every doubt in your mind,” stated Dean tersely, “Gabriel is definitely not behind these pranks. They’re too juvenile even for him.”

Sam nodded, conceding. “The candy and caramel apples had me wondering for a minute, but yeah, definitely not Gabriel.”

“I almost kind of wish it was. I owe the guy a right hook to the face still, preferably with a crowbar.”

They continued making their way through town, headed for the diner, only briefly glancing at the group of people in the middle of the road, and on top of parked cars, or swinging around lamp posts, the entire lot of them in complete and full-on synchronized song and dance.

Dean’s gaze flicked back to his brother. “I dunno, man. I’ve never heard of anything like this.”

His brother had glanced back over his shoulder at the people returning to their day and lives as the song and music died off. “Probably because we’ve never faced anything like this. Everything we’ve ever fought has had a body count attached to it. This thing, well, it’s annoying, but nothing last more than a day. Even if we don’t find it, since it isn’t exactly leaving us clues, eventually it’ll have to get bored and move on right? It’s playing a game with us, but maybe if we can’t figure it out, since we have absolutely nothing to go on, it’ll give up and go on and we’ll be free to leave town.”

At the diner, Cas took the seat by the window in the booth, Dean sliding in next to him and Sam sitting opposite the pair.

“Have you ever heard of anything like this?” wondered Sam, his eyes fixed on the angel.

Castiel’s eyes swiveled to him. “There are many myths from centuries past that deal in prank playing spirits. Actually even malevolent spirits and beings will sometimes have a strictly playful side. Loki, Eris, Iktomi, Ananasi, Dionysus, for a few, not to mention animal spirits like coyotes, ravens, foxes, and raccoons throughout mythology across the world since the beginning of time.”

“We already ruled out Gabriel,” stated Dean, grinning at the waitress as she caught his eye and signaled she’d be right with them.

The angel shook his head. “No, the real Loki. Son of Odin, brother of Thor, from Norse mythology. Personally, I do not think the tricks played so far suggest that it is any of the more human deities, though. More than likely, we are dealing with something that would have a child’s idea for pranks and fun, so it is a guess we are dealing with an animal spirit, if not a child altogether.”

The waitress came and took their orders, Dean and Sam ordering burger with fries, and Dean asking about what pies they had available. Silence fell over them comfortably as the waitress left to put in their orders.

Sam was making a face, like something was weighing on his mind he couldn’t quite let go of or wrap his head around. He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “That was weird, right? The people singing and dancing? That’s not normal… right?” Cas and Dean both blinked at him. “Because at the time, it didn’t seem weird. It was like it was something you might see anywhere, no big deal, but that was weird, right?”

The angel at Dean’s side made a face, considering. “You are right. Now that you mention it, it is most unusual.”

The hunter rolled his green eyes. “Can’t you just say something’s fucked up and be done with it?”

Castiel shot him a cross look, one he frequently used- most often with Dean. It said something along the lines of ‘Keep pushing your luck and my patience and I will smite you.’ He never went through with the silent threat, but Dean knew there were days he was very much tempted to. He grinned back at the angel.  
Sam flicked a French fry at his brother, smacking him right in the forehead as Dean looked away from Cas. The elder Winchester pulled a face of start and then annoyance.

“Focus, Dean,” ordered Sam, like he were talking to an ADD child. Dean flicked a fry at his brother in retaliation, but said nothing, regarding his little brother as Sam continued to speak, having dodged the projectile food. “Okay, so spontaneous- I’m guessing at least- song and dance. So whatever we’re after has upgraded from pulling pranks on inanimate objects all around town and is now going on to include the townspeople.”

“Still no one has been harmed,” interjected Cas, pointing out that essential factor in their case. “He is still playing by the guidelines Dean set down.”

The hunter in question snorted. “Yeah, as if waking up covered in glitter wasn’t bad enough, everyone is getting their Broadway on now?” Shaking his head with a heavy sigh, he took a long sip of his coke. They were still posing as FBI and he couldn’t exactly be drinking when he was on the job. “I miss when our lives made sense. Do you miss that? When the universe had rules and I didn’t have an angel on speed dial?” He glanced at Cas, quickly adding, “Not that I’m not glad to have you on speed dial.”

A shadow of a smirk crossed Cas’ expression, which was probably the closest they ever got to making the angel actually smile.

“I understood what you meant, Dean.”

“Would a animal spirit have the power to control people?” pressed Sam, looking disbelieving. “I mean, that’s some serious mojo. Like whoa. I can’t even begin to fathom how anyone or anything could manage something that major.”

“Or why,” added Dean, Sam nodding his head in consent.

Looking thoughtful, Cas placed his hands on the table, fingers steepled together. “Mischievous. Playful. Prankster. Harmless. Child-like.” His head angled to the side and his gaze was distant as he mulled it over in his head. “We must be dealing with a sprite, perhaps a fae child. With the upgrade to include controlling the movement of the townsfolk which requires a much stronger magic, I’m far more inclined to believe we are dealing with a fae child. In which case, it’s simply a matter of hunting them down. They would not be in town, they would want to be closer to nature instead. They will have created a place of their own even in the world they currently dwell, bending reality to whatever form and shape they desire, only to have it return to it’s original form the moment of the Fae’s departure, like a rubber band pulled taunt and then released.”

Eyebrows raised in surprised, Dean glanced at his brother, only looking up long enough to thank the waitress as she brought them their food, then back at Castiel.

“Wow. I think that was your entire word quota for the month in one long spiel. Are we going to be able to get a word out of you the rest of the time that we’re stuck here?”

An uncharacteristic, playful smirk crossed the angel’s face, one brow arching slightly as he slid a sidelong glance to the man beside him.

“Only if your words warrant being dignified with a response. Your chances are slim, Sam’s significantly better.”

Sam choked on his burger laughing and having to grapple for his drink so he could breath again.

Dean took the jab good-naturedly, actually ruffling the angel’s hair. “You wound me, Cas. Here I thought you knew I wasn’t one for profound conversation. I see how it is.” He pointedly turned his plate around and moved it over just a little.

Sam wondered at this until the angel reached over and grabbed a French fry easily, biting into it and letting his gaze drift out the window. It was like it was something they did habitually, without any real thought behind it. How had Sam not noticed this sooner? This change in Dean’s behavior to share his food with the angel?

After saving the world from the apocalypse, he guessed they’d finally been able to relax more into their relationship, to be more friends rather than strictly brothers in arms fighting every day just to survive.

“So we have to go trekking through the woods? Is that what you’re saying?”

Sam considered the question and the recent events that had been taking place all over town. “Hold up.” Cas and Dean both regarded him. There was something here, something key. He didn’t understand it, but he was sure it was there. “That’s two in one day.” His brother arched a brow, clearly not making the connection. 

“With the addition of the musical we just saw, that makes two tricks in one day. All the fire hydrants already turned into fountains earlier, remember? Every kid in town was out playing in the water. Until now, it’s been one trick a day, usually something everyone wakes up to, like it was done in the night.”

“So we going hunting at night,” Dean said with a shrug. “Like pretty much everything else we ever hunt. At least there’s some small measure of normalcy to that.”

Sam rolled his eyes impatiently. “You’re still missing the point, Dean. Two tricks instead of one. If this thing bumps up its game because we haven’t been able to find it, waking up covered in glitter or mannequins on the crosswalk are going to be the least of our concerns.”

Having finished his burger, Dean tapped his thumb absently against the table. “You’ve got a point. The entire town would be a fun house, everything a prank.” He shuddered at the thought. “And I’m guessing this guy has no shortage of ideas to use against us.”

“Or if he starts recycling pranks and compounding them with new ones,” offered Sam sensibly.

Dean scowled at the thought. “We gotta find this thing or we are seriously humped.”

The younger Winchester nodded, picking up a curly fry and popping it in his mouth, noticing the way Dean watched the action with a mixture of confusion and disdain. “Dude.” He arched a brow. “Curly fries? Really, Samantha?”

“Don’t knock my fries,” warned Sam.

“I won’t. I can’t. Those aren’t fries.” His elder brother pointed at his plate. “These are fries. Those look like you deep fried Shirley Temple’s hair. Edible ringlets.”  
Giving his brother a signature bitch face, Sam signaled to the waitress, making gestures with his hands like a clam opening and closing and then pointing to his plate, signaling for a to-go box. Dean rolled his eyes, pushing his plate closer to Cas, offering the angel the last of his fries.

Real men finished their food.

Nothing else was said until they were outside, walking down the sidewalk to head back to their motel. Dean had taken the white container from his brother, peering into as they walked, even stealing one to pop in his mouth. Yeah, okay, they were good, undignified, but good. They had a seasoning on them that wasn’t on the regular fries.

Dean looked at his brother. “Seriously, dude. You’ve been doing this for a while now that I think about it. When did you start getting curly fries on a regular basis? Why?”

Casually, Sam shrugged, hands in his pockets as he let his gaze drift to whatever caught his eye. “Ruby, actually,” he admitted, allowing himself a smirk that eventually became a fond smile. “She loved French fries. Especially curly fries. She got me in the habit of getting them.”

His brother stared at him incredulously, almost indignant at the look on his younger sibling’s face as he mentioned the demoness.

“Dude, how can you have that goofy, love sick look on your face about that evil bitch?” It sounded accusing. In part, it was. Dean still had a hell of a sore spot when it came to Ruby. He’d forgiven Sam, of course, but not Ruby. Never Ruby. “She was traitorous, lying, two-faced-“

Rolling his eyes, Sam nodded impatiently. “I know, Dean, but it’s not like she showed up wearing a sign saying she was evil. She wanted my trust, she wanted to help, she was there for me when I had no one else.” He heard music, low and almost distant, like someone with their car stereo too loud coming up behind them, rock and pop in one, a steady beat. Cas and Dean both watched him, Castiel tilting his head with a genuinely curious expression while Dean still looked angry, perhaps feeling betrayed Sam was able to remember the demon with any level of affection.

“When you died and I had no one and I was grieving, Ruby was there for me, just as she had been before you died, even though she’d been flung into hell and had to crawl her way back out. When I was angry and distrustful and had given up, she kept me alive, kept me functioning. She wedged her way into my life, forcing her company on me when I didn’t want anyone around. She dragged me out of bed in the mornings, shoved me in the bathroom, bought me food and wouldn’t leave me alone until I ate, never made me talk if I didn’t feel like it, hell, she even did my laundry, Dean. She was what I needed: a friend. She cared if I was okay even when I didn’t.”

The music was louder and he could actually hear the lyrics now, making him glance over his shoulder for the car, but he didn’t see one. He turned back. “I knew she was probably no good, but at the same time she was keeping me alive and sane and I couldn’t help falling for her. She wasn’t insidious. She was playful and happy and quietly supportive and not pushy.” A grin passed over his lips. “And hell in high heels; trouble walking, but not unlike any other girl that might not be great for you, and exactly what I needed.”

_She’s a pistol, pointed at me_  
_Smoking from her head to her feet, packing the heat_  
_She’s lethal, with a license to kill_  
_Stilettos ripping open the street_  
_She’s a heartbreaker, like a masterpiece_  
_But she be looking even better than me_  
_She’s the baddest girl I’ve ever seen_  
_How can something that’s so wrong_  
_Be exactly what I need?_

Dean and Cas watched, stunned, as a visage of Ruby seemed to appear, materializing out of thin air like a mirage, and strutting her stuff toward Sam, the taller Winchester suddenly dopey in love, grinning and moving toward her like he couldn’t help it, the words of the song now coming from his own lips.

_Here comes trouble again_  
_I better act carefully_  
_She knows what she’s doing to me_  
_And she makes it look so easy_  
_Here comes trouble again_  
_My heart tells me to leave_  
_But a girl like that’s on a different level_  
_Here comes trouble_

The visage of Ruby sidled up close to Sam, then edged past him, biting her full bottom lip, and lowered her eyes, whist her body language screamed ‘come and get me’. He continued to sing as they interacted, Ruby going black-eyed as she flirted and flounced around him, seducing without touching, so achingly close, dancing just out of Sam’s grasp as he reach for her.

_She’s like a razor cutting me deep_  
_Lemme lemme repeat_  
_She’s like a pistol, pointed at me_  
_Smoking from her head to her feet_  
_She’s a life taker, double agent in heels_  
_But I love the way she’s making me feel_  
_She’s like the baddest girl I’ve ever seen_  
_It’s so hard to walk away_  
_With her hands all over me_

He moved to leave, and Ruby reacted, reaching out desperately to grab him, to pull him back in, stretching her tiny frame as much as possible to reach up and kiss him, dissipating just before their lips touched and reappeared standing just so in the center of the sidewalk, hip cocked to one side and smirk on her lips, and Sam rushed forward, both clearly knowing exactly what game they were playing.

_Here comes trouble again_  
_I better act carefully_  
_She knows what she’s doing to me_  
_And she makes it look so easy_  
_Here comes trouble again_  
_My heart tells me to leave_  
_But a girl like that’s on a different level_  
_Here comes trouble_

She danced around him, trailing her fingers lightly down whatever she could touch, while Sam had his hands in his hair and clearly struggled with what he knew and what he wanted.

_She’s the baddest girl I’ve ever seen_  
_How could something that’s so wrong_  
_Be exactly what I need, oh, oh_

Then they were dancing in sync together, having tired of their cat and mouse, both grinning and happy and simply having fun, like they were good together, like they were perfect for each other, and it made Dean ache a little on the inside for what his brother deserved and so desperately wanted, and yeah, had Ruby not been a demon… well…

_Here comes trouble again_  
_I better act carefully_  
_She knows what she’s doing to me_  
_And she makes it look so easy_  
_Here comes trouble again_  
_My heart tells me to leave_  
_But a girl like that’s on a different level_  
_Here comes trouble_

The music died off as Ruby turned and pulled away, sauntering off with her hands in her back pockets, flicking her dark hair and watching Sam coyly over her shoulder as she walked away, vanishing along with the music until it was just the three of them again.

Cas and Dean both turned their attention back to Sam who shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Like I said, I knew it was probably gonna end badly, but she was there and exactly what I needed. It’s why I came to care for her.” He shook his head. “Things didn’t go bad until a few months in, subtly, under the guise of further helping me. I trusted her at that point, and probably couldn’t have walked away even if I’d wanted. She loved me in her own way, same way I loved her in mine.”

Cas watched Dean as the elder Winchester seemed to consider this, his jaw jutted to one side and lips pressed together, gaze not really focused on Sam, they seemed to be looking off past Sam’s elbow, but at something distant no one else could see.

Blinking, he shifted, alert and inquiring, pointing off in the direction Ruby had vanished. “Do you realize you just sang your memory rather than saying it?”

Sam blinked with a start, looking to where his brother was pointing and remembering just a moment ago. Yes. Yes, he had.

He frowned. “Huh. That’s weird.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Title** : My Life is a Movie

 **Author** : Tenoko1

 **Rating** : PG-13

 **Summary** : In which case, a bizarre series of events lead Sam and Dean to a small town where nothing makes sense and things just keep getting stranger and they’re trapped there. There’s also pie, hugs, music, bonding, and moments no one is ever going to live down.

 **AN** : For the most part, I’m going to ignore the events after season five. This is **_not_** apart of my ‘The Path We Choose’ verse though.

 **Disclaimer** : Supernatural, its story and characters, along with all songs mentioned/used belong to their respective owners.

 

# Chapter Two

 

          “I’m not sure whether to use every obscenity I know or to laugh my ass off,” barked Dean, clearly choosing to side with laughter in this case.

          What was funny was that it wasn’t funny. It seemed completely normal that when Sam decided to retell of his time with Ruby, back when things had been good, back when she had been fun in the midst of her deceit, that it should choose to come out in song. And that was in and of itself weird.

          The elder Winchester had his head thrown back to regard the sky, his arms outstretched. “Why, oh _why_ , couldn’t we have been hit with this curse _during_ the damn apocalypse? I’d just about be willing to kiss a demon again in order to see Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel, Uriel, and Zachariah break out in synchronized song and dance!” He lowered his arms and turned back, grinning widely at his brother and the angel standing with him. “Hell, Crowley would probably even give it to us as a freebie just for the kicks and giggles factor. Jesus, how is this our lives?”

          Castiel was watching him with an expression that belied waning tolerance. “Don’t be absurd, Dean. Angels would never find themselves susceptible to a curse, much less one that is musically inclined.”

          The hunter grinned and pointed at him. “You remember that when your solo strikes up.”

Cas rolled his eyes, a human gesture Dean was sure he’d picked up more from Sam than from Dean. Sam was the one with all the different facial expressions, and who’d been wronged by the universe and given Dean as a brother, who was usually the cause of Sam’s vast range of facial expression. Unless of course, it was one of those days where they were sacrificing themselves to save the other one’s bacon, which was more times out of the week than not.

Still grinning, Dean held out his brother’s to-go box. “Here. Carry your own food, and try not to embarrass me further, Princess.”

          It would have been more fun for Dean to tease his little brother if it didn’t feel like he were trying to tease him for doing something completely ordinary like sneezing or, at worst, waking up with serious bedhead. Amusing enough to poke fun of, then it was let go.

          “Do you think the singing is a day long trick?” wondered Sam. “That it counts as the entire trick no matter how many people it affects? Or does each occurrence count as a new trick?”

          Castiel seemed to consider this and Dean watched him, deferring to the angel’s infinitely greater memory to draw comparison from. “They probably all fall under the same trick, like all the washers being affected had been the same trick.”

          Sam nodded, considering this. “That does make sense, yes. A blanket effect.” His brown eyes meeting his brother’s as they reached the motel and let themselves in. “But how is it choosing its victims? So far there was the entire group before lunch, and then me.”

          “Random,” wagered Dean.

          Cas shook his head. “I do not believe so. There must be something that triggers it, as all curses have a trigger to both activate and deactivate. Again, the washers only ruin clothes that are white. That’s the trigger. The curse was deactivated after a period of time passed.”

          Sam was nodding. “I doubt we’ll figure out why it’s happening if it only last for today, but I would like to know.”

          “You looked like you were having fun,” commented Cas with a sidelong glance as they entered the motel room.

Moving over to the table, Sam opened his laptop and tossed his jacket over the back of his chair, the container of fries by his resting hand. “I _was_ having fun,” Sam admitted, gaze reflective. “I dunno, it’s like I got swept up in the memory of all the good times between me and Ruby.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get swept back up in them,” warned Dean, “in case we end up with a repeat performance.”

“You think that could be the trigger?” wondered Sam, regarding his brother for his input. “A strong memory? Or like, when you feel a surge of emotions and such that go along with that memory?”

Dean shrugged, Cas watching them silently. “Dunno. We don’t have enough to go on. That could have been the case for you, but what about the entire group of people earlier? I doubt they all have the same memory they can sing and dance about.”

Scratching at his jaw with the back of his thumb, Sam considered, “Well, it could be like in a movie, I guess. Like in musicals. The song may not be about them, but they still get swept up in the bigger scenes just by being near the people the song really does revolve around.”

His elder brother arched a brow. “You watch musicals?”

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Man, don’t even play. You and I have watched musicals together, so I know you’ve seen some, too. Pastor Jim had a huge collection of them, remember? And then we’ve ended up watching them when there was nothing else on TV. Frankly, I’d pick a musical over your B-rated horror flicks any day.” He paused. “Unless it’s _Mary Poppins_.”

“Dude, how can you not like the nanny?”

His brother shuddered. “I really just hate that movie. And the ending was depressing to me.”

“A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down, Sammy,” reminded Dean with a grin as he flopped down onto his bed with one of the books they’d gotten from the library.

His younger brother regarded the angel, their gazes locking. Surreptitiously, Castiel slid his gaze to the pillow on Sam’s bed, seemingly watching as it jumped into the air and flung itself across the room at Dean with a sound of feathers rustling.

In his surprise, Dean missed the grin and high-five the two of them gave each other.

\--

They procured a map of the woods and areas surrounding the town, Sam and Dean preparing to go tromping in the woods. Castiel left to go see what he could find, apparently Heaven had a much more vast Library he had access to now that he wasn’t excommunicated anymore.

Dean thought he could really get behind the idea of Cas having those kind of connections to help them on cases. They would have copies of texts that had probably been long destroyed on earth. Of course, Dean didn’t want Cas to do research on their behalf if it would get him into trouble either, which he tried to stress as discreetly as possible to Cas, which only made the angel regard him in confusion.

Fine. See if Dean worried anymore about whether or not Cas helping them ended up hurting the angel’s refounded relationship with his siblings. Not that he worried about the angel whenever he wasn’t with them or anything. Nope, he never wondered if they hadn’t changed their minds and decided to put Cas through yet another reeducation. He didn’t worry about that, or if they might strip Cas of his ability to return to earth just to keep him away from the Winchesters. He didn’t wonder if Cas was being treated fairly since he was the angel to defy orders and basically fall of his own free will. Or if Cas had any real allies in Heaven that were watching his back for him.

No, Dean Winchester did not worry about Castiel at all.

“Let’s start with the trails that are already in place and marked,” the younger Winchester suggested, finger on the map. “Our regular gear isn’t suited for this, though.”

Checking their weapons and talismans, Dean glanced only briefly at the line his brother indicated, then to the other man.

“Why not?”

“Well for one, we aren’t actually preparing to kill it, remember? We just have to find it.”

“We need to be prepared in case it plans to make us its only victims, though.”

Sam nodded. “Point, but I think discretion is good here. We jog the trail like anyone else might be, give us an idea of our environment, see if we notice anything that might be a clue, which we don’t follow up on til later.”

“You just want to go for a jog,” snorted Dean.

“I want a visual of the area more than just what I see on a map.”

With a sigh, Dean looked down at himself them shrugged out of his leather jacket, moving over to his bag instead. “Alright, fine. You wanna jog ten miles, we’ll jog ten miles. First to give out- read ‘you’- buys dinner. Lace up your sneakers, Lance Armstrong.”

Exasperated, Sam rolled his eyes. “That’s biking, Dean.”

\--

“Oh God,” panted Dean from where he lay sprawled in the forest floor panting and in agonizing pain. “I’m going… to die!” He struggled a few breaths, not even having the strength to turn his head to glare accusingly at his sibling. “This is all your fault.”

Sam was in just as bad of shape. Heaving and groaning as he tried to lift his head then failed, dropping it back down to the soft earth. “Why… do you have to be… so… competitive? Shit, Dean. I don’t… even know… what hurts most.”

“Your crushing defeat…obviously.”

“Beat you by a mile.”

“Did not.”

“Did, too.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“Ha! If only Mike and Luci could see us now, they’d be glad we never became their vessels.”

Sam nodded, immediately regretting it. “They dodged a bullet, for sure.”

“We’re too awesome for them anyway.”

“Can’t think of any reason to become an angel’s vessel,” agreed Sam with a weak shake of his head.

Dean nodded soundlessly, and then faltered, a thought occurring. “Well… I’d agree to be Cas’ vessel if he needed me to.”

Sam lifted his head in surprise. “What?”

Dean was frowning. “Not that I can think of a reason he’d need me to be his vessel unless, like, Jimmy’s body got destroyed in a battle or something and we didn’t think they’d regenerate him a new one right away or something. Just so he wouldn’t get stuck in heaven without a vessel on earth.”

“What about Claire?”

Dean turned his head. “You’d rather he take over a kid’s body? Are you kidding?”

“Who took over a child’s body?” questioned Cas curiously.

“Oh hey look,” exclaimed Dean breathlessly as a figure came to stand over them, head angled in concern and confusion. “Cas came to personally escort me to Heaven in my time of dying. Hi, Cas.” A dopey grin passed over the hunter’s face. He would later blame it on deliriousness due to exhaustion. “We were talking about that you have my permission to use me as a vessel should an emergency ever arise that you need to. Not that we can think of one, but I trust you, and you have my permission. If I’m your blood type, or whatever.”

The angel blinked, face going carefully neutral. “Y-you’re giving me…” He frowned. “You wouldn’t even let an angel far greater than myself- an archangel- within yourself, yet you would allow _me_?”

Dean shrugged best he could from his position sprawled on the ground, breathing under control but still way too sore to move. “It’s all about the ‘who’, Cas. I trust you. We’re just talking theoretically, since I can’t think of a reason why you’d ever need one, but if the emergency ever arose and you found yourself in need of a vessel, say temporarily or whatever, you have my permission to take me as a vessel.”

Sam was nodding. “Yeah, Cas, same goes for me: if you need one and Dean’s not there. I’ve got your back, too.”

Dean snorted and looked at his brother while Cas continued to wear a careful blank mask. “Dude, no. You cannot offer yourself up like that as well, that’s just gross like we’re whoring ourselves out or something. I’m not sharing vessel rights with you. It’s too personal or something. He’d be wearing one of us, after all. Sort of like trading our life for his or something. He likes me better and did me a solid by pulling me out of Hell, plus he’s apart of our family at this point anyway-“ He glanced at Cas, “Oh, we adopted you. Just so you know,” he said, then looked back at his brother. “And as the first born it is my decision that should he ever have need of a vessel, between the two of us, it going to be me.” Barely managing to push himself up into a sitting position- yes, he really wanted a long, hot bath- he regarded Cas. “Right?”

The angel’s next action took both brothers completely by surprise. He dropped to his knees, basically in Dean’s lap, one knee on either side of the hunter’s left thigh, and threw his arms around Dean’s neck, hugging the human very tightly, his face turned away as best he could from the younger Winchester. Sam realized with horror and fascinated embarrassment that Cas might actually cry.

When Dean wrapped his arms around the angel, it wasn’t to return the gesture, but more to offer comfort at the angel’s apparent sudden distress, worry and concern coloring the hunter’s face.

“Cas? You okay? Did I say something wrong? What’s the matter? Would you prefer Sam? If you would, that’s okay, too, I just-“

“Thank you,” the angel choked out, and Sam was suddenly fascinated by the moss and ferns growing on a fallen tree in the distance, trying to give them at least the illusion of privacy while Castiel apparently had an emotional moment. “Thank you for your selfless generosity and concern for my well-being.”

Dean was rubbing a hand in soothing motions up and down the angel’s spine like he use to years ago when a distraught Sam would throw himself into his big brother’s arms bawling. “What? Dude, Sam and I would both take a bullet for you in a heartbeat. Thought you knew that. This is just putting it in angel terms since bullets don’t bother you. Man, we are bad friends if you didn’t realize we care what happens to you and that we want you okay.” He squeezed the angel tightly. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’ve- _We’ve_ got your back, man… No matter what.”

          Even with his back to them, Sam rolled his eyes, wanting so badly to announce ‘That’s how Dean pronounces ‘I love you’, Cas. Even if he doesn’t realize it. My brother’s an idiot. I apologize. There’s no cure.’.

          Sam heard a shuffle of fabric and turned his head to discreetly watch the exchange going on behind him. They were a hair’s breath apart, something anyone else wouldn’t be comfortable with, but this was Dean and Cas after all, and they had their own rules as far as personal space went, and apparently, none was required.

Sam had asked about it once, and Dean said he got tired of reminding the angel about it and just got use to it instead, it was easier.

          Cas shook his head, as though arguing with Dean’s words. “No, you don’t understand. When Jimmy agreed to become my vessel, it was simply because he had faith. Faith in my father, faith in his religion, faith that it would be the will of God, faith in a very broad sense. You’re agreeing because you have faith in _me_ specifically. You have faith in me when you might not in everything else, when you most definitely don’t have faith in my father or my siblings, when you don’t even like them, and when you have no idea if things are going to turn out okay. I’m…” He faltered, struggling for the words. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip; Dean’s eyes following the movement, both of them seeming to realize their proximity at the same time. Cas’ gaze fell to Dean’s mouth in a way that made Sam certain that sentence was going to go unfinished.

          _‘Oh my God,’_ thought Sam. _‘He’s going to kiss him. Do it. Doitdoitdoitdoit. Please, please, please just get this out in the open so I don’t have to watch all the pining anymore. Go for it, Cas.’_

          “I’m…” Suddenly the angel was five feet away and Dean was blinking in surprise like he’d been startled from a dream. Sam noted how the hunter was leaning forward more than he had been a moment ago. “I’m invading your personal space again,” continued the angel, lowering his eyes. “I apologize.”

          With a frustrated groan, Sam threw himself back down on the forest floor.

\--

          The next morning, Sam and Dean ran the trail again, except they opted for the five-mile trail this time around that took a slightly different and significantly shorter route. Cas had wordlessly healed them of all the damaged they’d inflicted on themselves the day before, not even giving them chastising looks for their incredible stupidity. He’d been very quiet all evening, in fact, but not like something was bothering him, in fact, he seemed more at ease than ever, quiet and content.

          Dean was completely oblivious as to what would cause a change in the angel, but at least he noticed that there was one.

Idiot.

How Sam survived to adulthood with his brother looking after him, the younger Winchester had no idea.

Note, the morning had started out as a jog to survey the area, like the day before should have been. It stopped being a survey when they spotted a creature the brothers couldn’t agree on whether it was goblin or a gremlin, and had gone tearing after the little monster.

Who promptly led them straight into a trap, sending them bursting through the underbrush, and over the line where the earth suddenly dropped off, leaving them flailing in empty air before they fell with a ‘splosh’ into a huge mudhole, eerie laughter and movement coming from the bushes all around them.

Cas looked startled when they shoved the door to the motel room open, filthy and dripping wet from having to hose each other off at the end of the building in order to get the majority of the filth off of them. Dean radiated with bloodlust, seeming far more imposing than his lean frame would originally suggest.

“What happened?” questioned Cas in alarm

“Gremlins.”

“Goblins.”

They spoke in unison; the angel’s blue eye’s flicking to each of them uncertainly.

The elder of the two scoffed and rolled his eyes, stomping into the room and peeling off his hoodie and shirt as he went. “Whatever. It was gremlins. I call first shower.” He dropped his soggy clothes with a ‘splat’ in the bathroom sink and slammed the door.

They were still arguing Goblins vs Gremlins three hours later when both brothers had showered and changed into clean clothes, making their way down Main Street to the Laundromat, both with a duffel of dirty clothes slung over their shoulder. Castiel kept pace with them and seemed to contemplate the sidewalk as it passed beneath their feet.

“Dude, think about it,” insisted Dean, shoving clothes into one of the washers like it had insulted him. “Gremlins muck about with machinery. It’s what they do. The traffic lights in town, the washers, the fire hydrants? It’s totally been gremlins.”

“‘Muck about’?” echoed Sam, pulling a face. “Do you hear yourself? And no, that was obviously a goblin we saw-“

“When have you _ever_ seen a goblin to compare it with?”

Sam offered him his most annoyed bitched face and slammed the door to his own washer shut, before whirling away from his brother, now empty duffel still in hand. Dean ended up slamming right into his brother’s back when he’d stalked after him, glancing over his shoulder to see his Cas was following after them, not noticing the way Sam was a statue in front of the store front glass.

“Dude, what the hell?”

Sam pointed stupidly outside, Dean and Cas leaning in opposite directions to peer around him. Two teenagers, a boy and a girl, were happily dancing and singing in sync, apparently on their first date, desperately in love, everything in life was rainbows, sunshine, and fucking kittens, oh and they were going to be together FOREVER.

Dean considered trying to drown himself in one of the washing machines.

          “Demons,” he stated, matter-of-factly. “They must be possessed by demons. C’mon Sam, we need to go kill them. We’re duty bound to slit their throats.”

          Sam rolled his eyes and sighed in a very put upon manner. “Dean, what do you see?”

          “Two annoying, idiot twits. Further proof of the decline in quality in the gene pool. A future in which case humanity is wiped out not by Lucifer, but by our own hand, because hey, the children are our future.” There was no way to put more sarcasm into that last part.

          “They’re singing about their first date and being in love, Dean,” Sam pointed out as though he had all the patience in the world. “Singing. Unintentionally. Today.”

          A grave expression crossed Dean’s features. “That jackhole. It didn’t end at midnight. How is that fair? You can’t change the rules mid-game.”

          “We still do not know what is the cause of this phenomena,” reminded Cas.

          Sam turned around to face them, Dean standing with his arms folded and glare focused out the window, his mouth wilted down at the corners as he considered this new piece of information in the case.

          “The trigger has to be emotionally linked. Think of a memory or something that holds a lot of feelings for you: good or bad, probably something you wouldn’t just up and talk about.”

          Cas looked at him pointedly. “I hardly think any memory I have will cause me to burst into song. I think humans are the only target of this curse.” He regarded Dean. “I should think your time in Hell would evoke a strong emotional response.”

          Dean rolled his eyes. “Okay first of all, I am the person least likely to burst into song unless I’m singing to the radio, okay?”

          Sam scoffed, hands on his hips. “You’re lying to an angel, Dean. You sing all the time. If you aren’t singing, you’re humming. You sing in the shower. You hum when you work on the car. You don’t even realize you’re doing it most of the time. Of any of us, you’re the one most likely to sing.”

          “Not about Hell. What? You expected me to break into a round of ‘Nightmare’ by Avenged Sevenfold? Sorry, not happening. I’m willing to talk about that, I just don’t because it’s pretty basic what happened and everyone here knows. After thirty years on the rack, I caved and became one of the same. Extreme circumstances derived of the instinct to survive. I wasn’t me anymore after thirty years, I was a ravenous dog who’d forgotten where it came from. I’ve got regrets, but I have no shame over what happened. It may have been at my hand, but that didn’t make it my fault.”

          Pulling a face, Dean pivoted to look at Castiel, the angel tilting his head as though expecting the hunter’s words. “Seriously, though. You have to have things that evoke a strong emotional response, Spock. Angels aren’t impervious to curses, your vessel is human, so I say you might have some level of tolerance, but are still susceptible. What’s something that evokes a strong reaction from you? Some memory, happy or sad.”

          The angel’s blue gaze flicked about unseeingly, ss though visually searching his memories. “I cannot think of one off hand, not so suddenly to attempt triggering the curse just in order to see if that is, in fact, the trigger.”

          “What about the day Cas saved you from hell?” offered Sam. “When he showed up in Hell to pluck you out?”

          It was a really good thing that no one else but them was in the Laundromat in the middle of the day like this.

          The elder Winchester shrugged. “I was torturing somebody. In the process of cutting their gums away from their teeth so that they wouldn’t have any. I’d already pulled out their fingernails and cut out their eyelids so they couldn’t close their eyes.” He said it simply, business like.

          Cas nodded. “When I broke through into that level of Hell, Dean looked up in surprise, his black eyes glaring at first, then seeming to realize what was happening. The scalpel dropped from his fingers and he thrust a hand into the air for me to grab, the black fading from his eyes in that one moment.”

          The hunter was nodding. “That memory was the only one it took me months to recall.”

          “A lot happened, it’s no wonder.”

          Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, well, what about something you don’t really talk about?” The taller male wracked his brain for something he hadn’t heard either of them talk about, yet figured they probably needed to, and yeah, coming up with something under pressure like that was a lot harder than had it not mattered. An event came to him, and he snapped his fingers, face lighting up as he pointed to them. “Oh! Oh, what about that time when Dean was going to say ‘yes’ to Michael? The two of you had a big fight, right?”

          Both of them stiffened uneasily, casting quick sidelong glances at the other. Dean swallowed thickly and shifted his weight. Yeah this was clearly not something they wanted to talk about. And probably hadn’t since it the day it happened.

          “Uh, yeah, that’s not exactly worth singing about, and I highly doubt there’s a song for it.” Neither of them were meeting anyone’s gaze now. “And it’s not a fun memory or anything.”

          Oh no, they were onto something here and Sam damn well knew it. Not wanting to talk about it was a good thing in this instance, it meant there were things that hadn’t been dealt with or acknowledged. Granted, it would be better if they could get a happier memory, like when Sam was thinking about things between him and Ruby, but this was also something the two of them would need to deal with.

          He folded his arms and tilted his head, feigning genuine curiosity, which wasn’t terribly hard, since he’d always kinda wondered what took place that day when Cas brought back Dean bloodied and beaten, unable to stand under his own power.

          “Well what did happen? I mean, you’re okay now, right? And it’s over, but it was kind of a turning point I feel I missed something on. What happened exactly?”

          The Laundromat shimmered, music starting up just as the room melted away into a cramped alley, the three of them standing at the mouth of it. There was a wood fence, crates and pallets stacked against brick walls, and steam rising from manholes in the cement. Dean immediately tensed, turning to look at Cas; the angel’s face dark with fury.

          Without warning, he grabbed Dean by the front of his jacket, turned and threw him into the alley, the human slamming hard against the fence and staring at the angel stalking towards him.

 

_Get out your guns_

_Battles begun_

_Are you a saint or a sinner_

_If love’s a fight_

_Then I shall die_

_With my heart on trigger_

 

He grabbed Dean angrily again, throwing him with no measure of care against the adjacent brick wall, knocking over pallets and breaking crates, the hunter scrambling to try and regain his footing, hands up as if to placate the incensed angel.

 

_They say before you start a war,_

_You better know what you’re fighting for_

_Well baby, you are all that I adore,_

_If love is what you need, a soldier I will be_

 

Cas continued to unrepentedly knock Dean around like he were nothing more than a rag doll, sometimes throwing him clean off his feet, sending him sailing through the air with a sweep of his arm, backhanding the hunter across the face. The angel was singing what Sam thought under any other circumstances would be a love song, but with so much uncontained anger instead. Cas was even pining Dean against the wall to fling the words of the song into the hunter’s face, accusing the human of his actions.

 

_I’m an angel with a shotgun,_

_Fighting til the war’s won,_

_I don’t care if Heaven won’t take me back._

_I’ll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe._

_Don’t you know you’re everything I have?_

_…and I, wanna live, not just survive, tonight._

          Torn, Cas whirled from Dean, regarding the sky above as though it held answers to his words, then giving up.

 

_Sometimes to win, you’ve got to sin,_

_Don’t mean I’m not a believer._

_…and major Tom, will sing along._

_Yeah, they still say I’m a dreamer_.

 

He turned back to Dean, flinging his words like weapons, the hunter visibly cringing as though he’d been struck again, looking equally pained by what Cas was apparently feeling, that he was the cause of it.

 

_They say before you start a war,_

_You better know what you’re fighting for_

_Well baby, you are all that I adore,_

_If love is what you need, a soldier I will be_

_I’m an angel with a shotgun,_

_Fighting til the war’s won,_

_I don’t care if Heaven won’t take me back._

_I’ll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe._

_Don’t you know you’re everything I have?_

_…and I, wanna live, not just survive, tonight._

_I’m an angel with a shot gun,_

_Fighting til the war’s won,_

_I don’t care if Heaven won’t take me back._

_I’ll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe._

_Don’t you know you’re everything I have?_

_…and I, wanna live, not just survive, tonight._

 

          Having worked out the majority of his anger, Castiel’s posture softened, approaching the crumpled Dean, who watched him expectantly and warily. Taking a breath, Cas offered out his hand to the hunter, which Dean regarded uncertainly, then clasped in his own, allowing the angel to help him to his feet.

 

_…and I’m gonna hide, hide, hide my wings tonight._

_They say before you start a war,_

_You better know what you’re fighting for_

_Well baby, you are all that I adore,_

_If love is what you need, a soldier I will be_

 

          The pair of them returned to Sam, the music dying off and alley disappearing, neither of them looking at each other and Sam feeling very much like a dog for forcing them to face something that had clearly been so painful for the both of them, a wound they hadn’t really ever let heal, had simply ignored and never talked about. Now the bandage had been ripped off, exposing wounds just as red and raw as they had been.

          The younger Winchester opened his mouth, perhaps to break the awkward tension stifling the air now, maybe to apologize for having pushed them, for being an insensitive ass and not minding his own freaking business, but Dean cut him off, whirling around to face the angel at his side.

          “Cas, I’m sorry,” he blurted. The angel looked at him in surprise. “I know I said it before, but I really, really am, and that doesn’t make it better, but man, I was at a complete loss for what else to do. And yeah, I needed the sense knocked back into me, but I never meant to throw all your sacrifices back in your face like that. I wasn’t trying to be cruel, I just…”

          The smaller man shook his head. “No, Dean. I should apologize as well. I know you would never intentionally turn against me, I fully understand you felt cornered and without any other options. A mere man should not be expected to hold the weight of the world on his shoulders. That is asking far too much. It was expected you would break, it is why they applied so much pressure, so that you eventually would, not accounting that I would be there to keep you from doing just that.” He swallowed thickly and looked away. “I apologize for my treatment of you when I should have been more understanding of your position and perspective. Sometimes I forget you are only a human stuck in the here and now. What was a new and uncertain battle for me, was something you were already long since weary from.”

          Dean shifted, trying to catch Cas’ eye, waiting until they’d locked gazes before venturing, “So… we’re good? We’re okay?”

          A small sad smile crossed the angel’s expression. “Always, Dean.”

          A brilliant grin lit up the hunter’s face, the green of his eyes seeming even brighter than normal at that assurance. Cas returned the look with a fond smile of his own, closed lipped, but affectionate all the same.

          Hands shoved in his pockets, carefully examining the toes of his shoes, Sam cleared his throat lightly, glancing up sheepishly and apologetically at both of them, wincing when their smiles faltered.

          Breaking out in a toothy grin, Dean shoved his empty duffel at his brother. “Yeah, you better feel like a kicked dog, man. Just for that little stunt, you get to do the rest of the laundry all by yourself.” The bag caught Sam right in the face. “C’mon, Cas. I’m hungry. You?”

          The taller Winchester pivoted, scrambling after them as they left him behind without a backwards glance, the little bell chiming above the door in their exit. Sam smiled at their backs, listening as the two friends quipped and bickered good-naturedly back and forth.

          At the diner, they continued on just as happily, both seemingly having forgiven Sam for his earlier trespass and including him in their talks and laughter and Dean’s over the top jokes that actually caused Castiel to choke on his drink with laughter.

          “And I’m telling you, Sam,” insisted Dean as he accepted the slice of pie he’d ordered from the waitress, and slid it between himself and Cas, passing over a fork to the angel so he could share the hunter’s dessert. The waitress had purposefully brought them an extra large slice when she realized it was meant for two. Sam didn’t think Dean got the implications of that. His brother continued, “We’re dealing with gremlins here.”

          From his side of the booth, Sam rolled his eyes. “It was a Goblin, Dean. Give it up.”

          “This is America!” his brother exclaimed, then dropped his voice to a hiss, “There aren’t goblins this side of the pond. Maybe a few sightings in the Northeast, stragglers who made it here by accident, but definitely not residents of this country.”

          “Oh, so you think gremlins are more likely instead? Really?”

          Dean held up a finger. “They’ve been in this country for generations. A unit of soldiers in the air force during WWII even had a gremlin as their mascot, claiming that the creatures were always making sure they stayed in the air when they should have come screaming out of it.” He grinned at Cas when the angel made a happy noise around a mouthful of pie. “It’s good, right? I knew you’d love it. Make sure to get ice cream and pie in your next bite- you’ll blaspheme.”

          He did as Dean instructed, the corner of his mouth turned up as he bobbed his head. When the angel released a throaty groan of enjoyment, Sam watched as Dean’s gaze glazed over, pupils seeming to dilate at the sound. Snorting, Sam shook his head, returning his attention to his plate of curly fries.

          Why were they the only two completely oblivious to the fact they were practically married? All they needed now was for the two of them to burst into a duet singing their undying devotion to each other, because seriously: appropriate.

          And once they had, Sam, well being the good brother that he was, would make certain to never let his brother live it down. Ever.

          They were outside in the parking lot, the setting sun filling the sky with an array of color and casting long shadows. Sam was about to head back to the Laundromat while Dean and Cas would go do research to find out for sure if they were dealing with gremlins or goblins, when Cas had stiffened obviously, all traces of his earlier relaxed demeanor lost and tension thrumming through every nerve ending.

          Dean and Sam were both suddenly at alert.

          “What?” questioned Dean at the angel’s side. “What’s wrong?”

          The angel blinked, gaze drifting to Dean as though just seeing him for the first time. “I… have received summons.” He seemed to shake himself, as though clearing his thoughts. “I must return to Heaven. I may have new orders.”

          Reflexively, Dean snagged the angel’s sleeve, not allowing him time to disappear immediately. “Whoa, whoa. Summons? Orders? When will you be back? Will you need our help? You’ve got backup if you want it.” He faltered. “Will you be back?”

          Cas hadn’t received a summons in all the time they’d known him. He’d been in contact with his siblings and superiors, sure, but he’d never received something so official sounding. Official sounding was ominous to Winchester ears.

          Castiel discreetly disengaged himself from the hunter at his side. “I’m sure they will allow me to return… eventually, if not immediately.”

He gave Dean a smile Sam recognized as an angelic attempt to appear reassuring, awkward and clunky like they didn’t know quite how to empathize enough to be reassuring, except this time it was Cas forcing a smile for the sake of someone else when he didn’t know how.

“Good-bye, Dean.”

The angel was gone as Dean opened his mouth, perhaps to return the good-bye. Perhaps to argue. Either way, the hunter was left regarding empty air with a gut-wrenching expression of loss and bone-deep concern.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Sam shuffled his feet awkwardly, not liking Cas’ forced return to heaven anymore than his brother did. The severed connection bugged him like some intense wrong. If Cas wasn’t on Earth, there was no way for them to offer whatever little aid they could provide, to make certain the angel was never left without someone watching his back for him. Without them there, it felt like they were leaving him exposed to enemy forces, and that didn’t sit right with either of them.

 

_There’s a shop down the street_

_Where they sell plastic rings_

_For a quarter a piece, I swear it_

_Yeah, I know that it’s cheap_

_Not like gold in your dreams,_

_But I hope that you’ll still wear it_

 

Sam looked up with a start when the piano music started, watching as Dean slumped back to sit against the hood of someone’s car, singing softly, gaze distant and dejected. His younger brother was further amazed as a shimmering image of Cas seemed to pour out of the sky, trickling down to solidify into a slightly translucent form right in front of Dean, the hunter taking his hands in his, smoothing his thumbs over the backs of the angel’s hands as he sang beseechingly and sad.

 

_Yeah, though ink may stay my skin_

_And my jeans may all be ripped_

_I’m not perfect, but I swear I’m perfect for you_

_And there’s no guarantee_

_That this’ll be easy_

_It’s not a miracle you need,_

_Believe me_

_Well, I’m no angel,_

_I’m just me_ _But I will love you endlessly_

_Wings aren’t what you need_

_You need me_

 

Dean rose, appearing to look out over the town and regard the sky for help, before looking back at Castiel, that same pleading on his face.

 

_There’s a house on the hill_

_With a view of the town_

_And I know how you adore it_

_So I’ll work every day_

_Through the sun and the rain_

_Until I can afford it_

_You’re friends think I’m crazy_

_But they can only see_

_I’m not perfect_

_But I swear I’m perfect for you_

_And there’s no guarantee_

_That this’ll be easy_

_It’s not a miracle you need,_

_Believe me_

_Well, I’m no angel,_

_I’m just me_

_But I will love you endlessly_

_Wings aren’t what you need_

_You need me_

_You need me, you need me_

_Yeah, though ink may stay my skin_

_And my jeans may all be ripped_

_I’m not perfect, but I swear I’m perfect for you_

 

Dean turned, seemingly torn between convincing the sky and the angel beside him watching with a serene and adoring expression, tinged in sadness.

 

_And there’s no guarantee_

_That this’ll be easy_

_It’s not a miracle you need,_

_Believe me_

_Well, I’m no angel,_

_I’m just me_

_But I will love you endlessly_

_Wings aren’t what you need_

_You need me_

_You need me, you need me_

Dean settled back against the car again, singing softer, one hand coming up to cup the angel’s cheek, the angel dissipating from sight with every word.

 

_There’s a shop down the street_

_Where they sell plastic rings_

_For a quarter a piece, I swear it_

_Yeah, I know that it’s cheap_

_Not like gold in your dreams,_

_But I hope that you’ll still wear it_

Sam was blinking back tears, a knot thick in his throat as he watched the way his brother’s face crumpled, eyes clamping shut, before turning his head and shoving away from the car. Dean thrusts his hands in his pockets and trekked off with slumped shoulders without a word, and Sam didn’t have the heart to go after him.

Instead, he watched until his brother disappeared around the corner, wiping a hand over his jaw and scoffing in disbelief, hating the people handing out orders upstairs more than ever. Anyone who pulled Cas from earth was on Sam’s shit list, and he didn’t know how, but he was planning to personally mount a campaign against Heaven to allow Castiel to have complete choice to decide where he was stationed, angel had damn well earned it, helped save the world, didn’t he?

There was a light sniff to his left, causing Sam to turn his head in surprise, almost jumping back at the sight of Gabriel standing there with teary eyes, running the back of a knuckle under each eye as he continued to watch where Dean had disappeared before turning to face Sam with a determined expression.

“Okay, after that? I don’t care what anyone says, we are getting those two together.” He looked back. “Way to break my heart, Winchester. Geez.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case they were working is put on hold in light of one of their own being taken and held against his will. Dean is willing to go to any lengths to get him back.

Well into the next day, Dean fully understood why they included music into the background of movies. They complimented and amplified the feeling of the characters and the scene, a song for every occasion.

So the fact that both he and Sam currently were living with an appropriately dejected and defeated song playing as background music to their lives as they went about their day and utterly mundane tasks was fitting.

Dean thought Sam wanted to talk. Sometimes he would glance over at his elder brother, brows furrowed like his thoughts were just running in endless circles and would continue to do so until they found a way past his lips, his mouth even opening to speak… only for his posture to deflate, gaze casting away, and lips pressing tightly together and they continued on in silence.

The elder Winchester found himself alone more often than he usually would, per his own actions, rather than Sam’s. In fact, it seemed to suit them both, as Sam seemed just as restless, but neither of them willing to break the silence that had settled between them. Instead, he changed his clothes and laced up his sneakers and went to jog, perhaps to outrun his own thoughts.

Dean was tempted to do the same. To run until he was too exhausted to think anymore, to work out all the anxiety and pent up energy that had no outlet. He was restless and angry and worried and, well…

Depressed.

He was trying very hard not to give those feelings much attention. He was fine. Whether he was alone at the diner eating a lunch that held no appeal, roaming the town for signs of a prank and new clue in their case, or finding himself practically the only soul outdoors that day with the sky overhead crowded with gray clouds and a breeze that held the promise of rain, as if the very weather agreed with the way he felt.

It probably did. In fact, the entire world seemed to sense something wrong in the balance and it was all eerily quiet, like the rest of the population were walking on egg shells around him, and it only made him angry.

He would get past this, would be okay. He was being melodramatic, he told himself, a freaking girl like he always accused Sam of being. The amount of concern and worry he felt for the sake of Cas at the moment was absurd. The angel would be fine. He was fine. He would continue to be fine and everything would go back to the way it had been.

Cas would come back. Heaven would allow him to come back. He would be fine, and Dean didn’t miss the angel at all. After all, Cas had only been gone a day.

The uncertainty on Cas’ face when he’d received his summons haunted Dean though. The tension that had thrummed through the other man’s form like a wire pulled taunt enough to snap. The fear that had flashed through those blue eyes in such a way that made Dean scared for the sake of his friend, consumed with a sense of hopelessness because they couldn’t help Castiel, couldn’t even reach him if he needed help, that they wouldn’t even know.

He hated it, ached with it. Their lives felt lopsided now, with one point of their makeshift family missing and on his own with no one to watch his back for him. Dean knew Sam was just as worried and unhappy at Cas suddenly being called away. Sam was the optimist, though, or maybe the one most in denial, Dean having caught him more than once repeating to himself that Cas would, in fact, be fine. That he was an angel, for crying out loud, who’d been around longer than either of them, had survived more battles than they could imagine, and had stood toe-to-toe with both Lucifer and Michael and walked away with his head held high.

This didn’t make Dean feel in any better, the absence of Castiel only amplified as Dean realized how use they’d gotten to having him in their everyday lives. When he’d look to his right to ask a question and was left regarding empty air. When Sam brought breakfast and coffee for three instead of two. The way they would glance toward the Impala, as if to find their missing friend leaning against it while waiting for them.

Yeah, and this wasn’t even taking into account the questions Dean knew Sam would have about the song that had been coaxed out of him right after the angel’s sudden departure. If neither of them was willing to broach the subject of Cas being forced back to Heaven, well, they definitely weren’t going there anytime soon.

Not that Dean had answers. Or guesses. Or even a wild shot in the dark to go on as to what on God’s green earth that had been about.

That was a lie. He knew. He knew the moment it happened what it was about, like a blindfold had been removed and he was suddenly able to take in the sights and colors all around him.

He just wasn’t acknowledging it. Because he couldn’t. Not right now. It wasn’t his priority, after all. Further complicating his life held no appeal when he already had his hands full. His had a brother to keep out of trouble and his best friend was way deep in what the Winchesters fully considered Enemy Territory.

Everything else seemed rather pointless by comparison. What was the point of continuing to play this game with a harmless creature of the supernatural when Cas could be in trouble? The thought drove Dean to near insanity, and was only quelled by the thought that Castiel would glower at him like he was an idiot if the angel realized they were worrying like they were.

They didn’t think Cas couldn’t take care of himself; they knew he damn well could, that in fact, it was usually them ending up needing his help rather than the other way around. It was just that… they weren’t with him, watching his back, making sure whatever battle he found himself in the middle of, he didn’t find himself there alone.

\--

Sam’s long strides came to a slow halt when he spied the Trickster standing in the middle of the trail like he’d been waiting on Sam to finally catch up. He had a sucker in his mouth, making one cheek bulge out where it pressed against his teeth, the white stick poking out from the corner of his lips.

The brunette man stopped several feet away from the archangel, not really sure what to expect. In fact, he’d half thought that the other man had been an illusion the day before, a trick of its own, because well… after his declaration that Dean and Cas get all the help they could, he’d sighed and vanished from sight, not even glancing at Sam who’d been staring stupidly at him, mouth working soundlessly as his brain tried to form a coherent sentence.

Then Sam had been regarding empty air, causing him to whirl around, baffled, and maybe a little desperately.

Now he appeared to be waiting on Sam, as if the younger Winchester had been late to their agreed upon appointment.

“You’re really here,” stated the brunette, breathing heavily and eyeing the shorter man with no small measure of uncertainty. He frowned. “Why are you here?” If that came out sounding more suspicious than intended, well, it was with good reason.

Unfolding his arms, Gabriel inclined his head in the direction Sam had been headed, walking. The taller male easily matched their strides, casting sidelong glances at his companion.

“Heard there was some yoo-hoo going around letting people think he was me,” Gabriel said. “That the Trickster had settled in this town and gone soft with his pranks. I came to have a look-see.” He gave Sam an unimpressed look. “Kiddo, he’s most definitely not me. Lacks creativity.”

Shrugging, Sam stuffed his hands into the pouch of his hoodie. “I dunno. The musical element is one we’ve never seen before.”

“Not in real life,” the angel remarked, as if that made any difference. “That’s a twist I can actually get behind. A musical curse that causes you to be completely honest. Not to say it hasn’t been done before.”

“Completely honest?” questioned Sam, regarding him curiously. Gabriel met his eyes and arched a brow.

“What? You thought Dean-o would break into a heartbreaking love song of his own accord, and serenade an illusion of my brother in front of a witness if he had a choice?”

Sam shrugged again, looking away and down, kicking at the soft earth. “I just… I didn’t realize he felt like that about Cas, I guess.” Gabriel huffed with amusement, and Sam clarified, “I mean, I knew they cared about each other, but I guess I thought it was a lot simpler than…”

“Than Dean entertaining the idea of them having a life together?”

“He never said anything about it.”

“Probably because he didn’t realize it himself,” guessed Gabriel. “That or he was in that much denial about the whole affair. Then again, the song choice suggests it’s something he’s actually thought a lot about, but never voiced.”

“I knew they liked each other beyond friendship, but I thought it was mix of a crush and curiosity. And sexual tension. The potential for something, but not already something. Dean doesn’t fall in love, especially not with men.”

“Castiel isn’t a man,” shrugged the shorter male. “Just man-shaped.”

The younger Winchester regarded him. “I don’t suppose you can find out what Cas’ summons were about and let us know do you? Dean’s probably going out of his mind worried about him. Hell, I’m going out of my mind worried about him.”

Turning his head, Gabriel’s brow swept up. “And then what? Finding out would do what? What if it’s something bad? What if it isn’t? What if it isn’t something bad, but still keeps Castiel away for the rest of your lives, what then?”

“First, we just want to know Cas is safe,” snapped Sam angrily. “He’s apart of our family now, and we don’t just abandon each other.”

The other man stopped, turning so that Sam was forced to stop walking or either run right into him. Hazel eyes regarded him, curiously, inquiringly, like he were trying to flesh out a puzzle.

“Would that make you happy, Sam?” he wondered. “My brother’s safety?”

The brunette frowned, not sure where this was going, but feeling like he was missing something. “I’d feel a lot better, yeah. Cas doesn’t need us to hold his hand, but neither Dean nor I like him not having someone to watch his back for him.”

The arch angel had his head angled to the side, brows furrowed contemplatively, making Sam fidget.

“He’s not,” began Gabriel, annunciating, “one of you, as you say.” His head angled in the other direction. “He’s nothing like you, in fact, completely removed from all parallels of similarity, something altogether alien and removed. An angel isn’t a person with wings, Sam. We aren’t even people. Do you care for him simply because he emotes human feelings and wears the face of a human?”

Sam scowled darkly. “Cas is our friend. He’s our friend regardless of what he looks like. He’s our friend because of who he is, not what he is, because of his choices and convictions.”

“Is that why you only care for him and none of my other brothers?”

“None of them have stood by and fought beside us like Cas has, risked everything against insurmountable odds. He’s the only one to have done so. We trust him with good reason.”

“I died trying to help you, if you recall.”

Scoffing, Sam stepped around him and kept walking. “That wasn’t for us,” he snapped. “And rumors of your death appear to have been greatly exaggerated.”

“What would you be willing to give in order to have Castiel back?” Gabriel called after him. Sam pivoted. “If I could ensure he’d be allowed to stay on earth with you two for as long as you’ll have him? What price would you pay?”

Sam knew what his brother’s response to the question would be, but he didn’t know his own. For himself? Not too much, really. He cared about Cas, sure, but if he had to pick between Cas and Dean, well, his brother would win every time.

What he would be willing to give for Cas for the sake of Dean, well… that was a different story.

“Whatever I have to,” stated Sam, causing Gabriel to give him a pointed look. “My life or soul not included, of course. Nothing that would leave Dean on his own.” The angel inclined his head, and the hunter eyed him suspiciously. “How much would it cost us to have Cas back on earth? If that’s what he wants, that is.”

The angel blinked lazily. “It’s what he wants,” he said finally, then turned and made his way again, passing the hunter.

Sam watched the slight man, eyeing his back in bewilderment. “Can you help us?” he called after the sandy blond man. The angel kept walking. Sam tried again. “If you know what we’re willing to pay, what would be your cost to help us?”

The blond paused, keeping his back to the brunette for a long moment before glancing back over his shoulder, cheek lifting in a way that Sam knew he was smiling like he’d won.

“Come walk with me, Winchester.”

\--

When Dean pushed the door to the motel room open, the sight of two sets of eyes swiveling to regard him stopped him cold.

It’s not the eyes he’s use to. They weren’t familiar at all. In fact, one of the sets of eyes belongs to something clearly not human. The other person, while human in appearance, is also clearly not. Angels exude a presence. They also have a similar lack of facial expression that almost seems a hereditary trait.

He entered the room, removing his jacket and laying it across the back of a chair. “How can I help you?”

The angel and the creature regarded each other, as if trying to determine who had the right to speak first. Dean decided for them, pointed to the young woman with blonde hair in a pony tail and a business suit.

“You, angel lady,” he called. Her green eyes flicked to him. “What brings you here?”

The knee-high creature with owl large eyes and large, bat-like ears reached up to remove his crocheted cap, clasping it with long, bony fingers, watching nervously as the human and the angel interacted.

Dean just stared at her tiredly, waiting patiently with his hands on his hips. He didn’t really care why she was there. If angels wanted his help, the answer was ‘no’. If they wanted him to do something, the answer was ‘no’. If the world was in danger and it was divine prophecy that he and Sam once again save it, well, the answer was most assuredly ‘hell no’.

She should have come a day or two earlier when he was in a much better mood.

“You and your brother are considered the Ambassadors of Earth, spokesmen for humanity.” He blinked in surprise at her words. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “If either the forces of Heaven or Hell have business that might involve humanity, we know we will have the Winchesters to deal with, whether it be good or bad, you decide whether or not our work will go smoothly or at all, really. We want to start over with you. We would like to make amends to you,” she began, regarding him as though she didn’t trust him anymore than he did her. Good. Wary was very good. She had good sense, which was more than he could say for some of the other angels he’d met in the past.

He said nothing, just watched her until she was forced to fill the silence, “We want to reward you. For your previous aid in saving our Father’s creation and putting an end to the war between Heaven and Hell.” He arched a brow. “A peaceful life,” she continued. “You and your brother will be allowed to retire from this violent life and live normal lives, such as you both desire.”

When he continued to stare at her flatly, a flicker of confusion and perhaps annoyance passed over her lovely face. “Have you nothing to say?”

Pursing his lips, he nodded and stepped further to one side, hooking his thumb at the door. “Yeah, I do. Not interested in anything from any of you. Hit the door, sister.”

She blinked with a start, clearly not having expected that. It struck Dean that she was not like the angels he typically dealt with, and that this even seemed a little bit out of her element. She didn’t know him, not like the other angels had seemed to. She knew of him, and Sam, but she had no idea how to deal with him or what he was like and what to expect. She’d come just expecting to deliver the message.

She wasn’t haughty or pushy either, making Dean soften when he took in her obvious puzzlement. Apparently, Dean Winchester being oppositional had not been in her briefing. Poor kid.

Sighing, he softened, pulling out the chair at the table and indicating the one opposite him as he took a seat. Inclining her head, she took the seat across the faux wood table.

“Dean,” she began softly. “I was told to come make a peace gesture to you. To find some way to make amends for what you and your brother were put through. If you do not desire a peaceful life free of-“

He held up a hand, cutting her off. “It’s not… that, uh…” He frowned, not knowing what to call her.

“Azriel,” she provided.

He considered that a moment, then nodded. “Okay, Az. Look, it’s not that we don’t want a peaceful life or to get out of the hunter lifestyle. I guess, if we wanted it bad enough, we’d both go for, I know we’ve thought about it. Sam could go put his giant brain to better use, finish his schooling and become a lawyer or a doctor and go save the world one person at a time in his own way.”

She angled her head slightly, not quite the same way Castiel did so often, letting her gaze flick over his face as though searching for the answer to some unasked question.

“What about you? What would you do?”

Sucking in a deep breath, he let it out slowly, settling back into his chair and feeling everyone of his seventy-some years. He was tired and lost. He had no direction and no energy to seek one out right now. Not today. Not this week. Not when a member of their family had just been yanked away from them just the day before, and both he and Sam were trying to figure out how to rebalance their lives when one-third of it was suddenly gone.

He shook his head. “Not a damned clue, to be honest.” He forced a small, tight smile. They should have sent girls to talk to him in the past rather than ladder climbing douche bag bureaucrats with a deadly case of self-importance and entitlement. He felt himself slipping into helpful FBI agent against his will, drawing on fake patience he didn’t feel.

If his father had taught them anything exceptionally well, it was firearms and acting.

“Look, Az, I understand you’re just doing your job, and I appreciate the gesture, mainly because you seem a lot more decent than some of the angels I’ve had the misfortune of dealing with in the past, but right now is not a good time to try and make peace with me when your people threw us a curveball just yesterday.”

She frowned, turning her head and regarding him dubiously. “I don’t understand… What have we done to you recently?”

“Friend of ours,” he told her flatly, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he forced out the words. “Castiel.” Recognition flicked in her eyes, but her face remained carefully neutral. “Received summons and was forced back to Heaven yesterday with no warning and no idea if he’ll be allowed back.” He smiled at her again, and there was nothing friendly about it this time around. “My brother and I are none too happy about that at the moment.”

She looked down at the hands on the tabletop, mouth twisted just the slightest as she regarded her perfectly manicured hands. “I…see.” Dean didn’t think she did. That was the problem with angels. They didn’t see. She looked back up, dark green eyes finding his. “I understand. We’ll give you time, then, before attempting to make amends again. Perhaps you will be less conflicted about the path forward you wish to take.”

She stood suddenly, catching him off guard, and he rose too, eyeing her warily. The corner of her mouth twitched in the barest hint of a smile. “Thank you for speaking with me.”

He didn’t say anything; rather confused by this new angel they had sent down as messenger. Perhaps they had learned from previous attempts though, and for that he was grateful. When he nodded to her, she vanished from sight.

After a long silence, the little gray-green creature standing awkwardly in the middle of the room cleared its throat to gain Dean’s attention, looking sheepish as the hunter regarded it. Ridiculously large ears folded back guiltily to lay flat against it’s skull when green eyes zeroed in on it.

With a sigh, Dean settled back down in his seat, motioning once again to the chair across from him. The little creature shook its head, wringing the hat he’d worn nervously.

“Gip came with message.”

“You’re Gip, I assume?” The thing nodded, impossibly large, round eyes blinking. “What are you Gip?”

“Gip is a goblin.”

“But your friend we saw the other day. That wasn’t a goblin.”

Gip shook his head. “Was gremlin. Tunker. Play prank on boys. Play chase.”

Dean nodded like that made any kind of sense to him. “So goblins and gremlins are working together then? What are you doing in this country to begin with?”

“We came with the young master.” The human arched a brow but said nothing, waiting for the funny looking thing to elaborate. It didn’t, just smiled a sheepish and toothy smile at him.

Sucking in a deep breath, Dean let it out with “Of course you did.” The goblin nodded happily. From what little he knew of goblins, this bat eared creature was not what he’d been expecting. Dean scratched at his jaw with the back of his thumb, gesturing to the goblin with his hand. “Okay. What’s the message?”

“Young Master give you no pranks as gift,” the goblin explained, before dropping his gaze and only offering Dean the briefest uncertain, and almost apologetic glance, “Because humans loose friend. Humans are sad, so Young Master give three days. No pranks.”

A dark scowl made its way onto Dean Winchester face then, glaring so fiercely that the goblin squeaked and jumped back a step, tugging its hat over it’s head and floppy ears protectively.

“No deal,” he snapped. “This game is still on and we will find your boss. And tell him to mind his own damn business.”

The goblin nodded rapidly and disappeared from sight with a sound like a popping bubble.

Standing sharply, Dean paced the small room irritantly, hands on his hips. Frustrated and angry and without anything to take it out on until Sam ended up on the wrong end of Dean’s fury when the younger sibling came back, faltering uncertainly in the doorway when the older man’s withering glare landed on him.

Sam’s cautious eyes flicked around the room they shared. “…What’s wrong?”

“Where the hell have you been?”

His brother’s gaze fell quickly. “Uh,” He looked back up, shutting the door behind him. “On a run. You knew that.” He busied himself by his bed and duffle, digging out clothes to change into. He cast a look over his shoulder at his brother, tone careful in a way that made Dean suspicious, his eyes narrowing.

Sam ventured carefully, “Something happen while I was gone?”

“We had visitors.”

He straightened in surprises. “Visitors? Plural?”

“Did I stutter, Samantha?”

Confusion colored Sam’s face as he scanned the room as if for signs of the aforementioned visit. “Who? What did they want? When?”

“Right before your princess ass got here,” Dean snapped and Sam scowled, bitch face sliding into place as his patience thinned.

“The stick up your ass is showing, Dean. You might want to see to that,” he threw back, the two of them squaring off.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Snorting, Dean threw himself down to sit on the edge of his own bed. “The first was an angel,” Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Azriel. That’s a girl, by the way. Apparently new or something, because she had no idea why she’d been given the assignment or anything about us. Seems like a sweet kid, actually.”

“Did you just call an angel a sweet kid?”

“You didn’t see her. It’s not her fault they threw her under the bus and picked her to have to deal with us when she clearly had no idea what she’d gotten herself into. She’s just the messenger and doing her job.”

Sam stared at his brother incredulously. “If you went easy on her, I can only imagine how duck out of water she must have seemed to you.” After a moment of staring at each other, Sam hedged, “What did she want then?”

“The angels want to compensate us for our previous troubles.” Despite himself, Sam snorted and turned away, liking the idea about as much as the thought of an acid bath. “Exactly,” agreed Dean with a nod. “Which is what I told her. She seemed utterly baffled. Told her she’d picked a bad day, especially after the stunt with yanking Cas from planet-side back to the clouds. Said she’d give us time and ask us again at a later time how the angels can give us a fruit basket of apology.”

Screwing his features into a face, Sam gave his brother an incredulous look, a brow arching. “She didn’t actually show up with a fruit basket did she? I might have shot her for that.” Dean shook his head as Sam moved into the bathroom with his change of clothes. “Who was the other visitor?”

“Gip. A goblin.”

“You owe me twenty-bucks,” he declared, half-heartedly.

His elder brother rolled his eyes. “I owe you a kick in the ass just for being the little brother. We were both right. Goblins and gremlins are in town and working together. Taking orders from a ‘young master’.” He actually used air quotes on that one, shrugging at the look Sam gave him. “That’s what he kept saying. Said the young master wanted to give us a grace period in light of losing Cas, I respectfully declined-“

“When have you respectfully done anything, Dean?”

“Shut it, Princess, and let me finish. Told him the game was still on, that we’d hunt his ass down, and kick around a few goblins and gremlins for landing us in that mudhole the other day.”

Exasperated, Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “You challenged it, Dean? Really? What waking up covered in glitter once already wasn’t bad enough for you?” He glared at his sibling and Dean rolled his eyes, leaning against the door jam.

“Okay, so I didn’t actually say that part, but I should have. Just wanted it to stop looking at me with those freaky big eyes. Told it the game was still on, though.” Breaking eye contact, he shrugged a little self-consciously. “So yeah, Cas or no Cas, it’s time we stop screwing around and put an end to this game already.”

His brother watched him closely a minute, eyes flicking over the other man’s face and stance, taking in every minute detail. Then, “Okay.”

Dean looked up. “Okay?” A nod. “Okay, then.” He moved away from the door, waving a hand dismissively. “Get clean then, Princess. We’ve got to find out whatever prank took place today and have another look at those maps.”

Though he would die before admitting it to anyone, Dean occasionally thought commentary in Cas’ general direction, wondering if the angel could heard ‘prayers’ that were only inside the hunter’s head. Surely so. It was a lot like a one-sided conversation, though. About nothing.

Hey, Cas. One of your siblings showed up. Don’t freak. She seemed nice. Poor kid. Wonder what she did wrong to be sent to talk to us?

Get this, Cas. We met one of our quarry. Goblin named ‘Gip’. Sam wasn’t right, though, so don’t even think it. It’s goblins and gremlins. You can give me credit for being right anytime, though. Because I was.

Sam takes way too long in the bathroom getting ready, Cas. Even with all your siblings you will never understand this injustice. I think he’s doing it on purpose.

It took all his will power not to end every sentence thought toward his friend with some variation of “Wish you were here” or “When will you back?” or especially “Are you okay?”

When Sam finally, God bless him, emerged from the bathroom dressed and ready, Dean was shoving him toward the door impatiently, grousing and over animated like everything in their lives was just fine. He just needed to be busy, to really get behind this hunt. Their lives would go back to normal and they would get into their old routine with-

“Gah!!”

They both cried out in indignant alarm, registering only ‘cold’ and ‘wet’ as something dumped heavily on the both of them as they stepped out of their motel room. ‘Slimy’ soon added itself to the list of adjectives as whatever oozed it’s way past Dean’s collar and down the line of his spine.

“Oh fuck me,” groaned Sam in disgust, flicking his hands clean of the pink slime covering them both as cackles sounded all around them, their owners unseen. Dean would have sworn he saw movement out of the corner of his eye under vehicles and on the roof of the building.

“Just remember it was your idea,” insisted another voice, causing them to look up from scrapping bubble gum colored ooze from the hair and faces. Gabriel was leaning against the hood of the Impala, watching them with a pained expression. Shaking his head, he snapped his fingers, “And people are going around saying I’m the one responsible for all this?” He offered them both fluffy towels, leaning forward to sniff Sam before pulling back, his nose wrinkled. “It’s not even scented or flavored!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” barked Dean, wiping the towel over his face, smearing it with flower petal pink. “Thought you were dead.”

“Was,” agreed Gabriel before flashing him a brilliant smile that could only be fake. “It’s been remedied.” He lifted his hand to snap his fingers, pausing. “Shall I help with clean up or would you prefer the old fashioned way of soap and water?”

He didn’t actually wait for an answer, at least, not from Dean, because his gaze was focused on Sam instead. The younger Winchester gave a barely visible nod and with a snap they were suddenly just as clean as they had been two minutes earlier.

Dean shoved past the arch angel, keys in hand, missing the look Gabriel and Sam gave each other. The archangel giving a pointed look and Sam silently conveying ‘what do you expect’? Dean missed it though, and it’s probably for the best.

Gabriel appears in the back seat just as they’re pulling out of the parking lot, and Dean shot him a glare in the rear view. “Look, we don’t have time for you right now, or ever. We’ve got real problems to worry about.”

The blond man gave him a sultry look. “And don’t I know it,” he said in a way that was all suggestive and teasing. Rolling his eyes, Dean refocused his attention on the road, hoping that maybe if he ignored the angel, it would go away. Gabriel was all about attention, after all.

“Why are you here?” asked Sam, pivoting in his seat with one arm over the back of it. The driver glanced at him, frowning at the way that sounded like a practiced opening.

Dean blinked with a start. “Holy fuck.” Both Sam and Gabriel looked at him in surprise. “You knew about this.” It wasn’t accusatory, but matter-of-fact and shocked, so he said it again, and it was accusing this time. “You knew about this.”

“Wha-? No! I-“

Rolling his eyes, Gabe leaned forward in his seat, arms folding over the back of the leather so he could prop his chin on them. Sam was actually throwing him silent ‘do something’ looks, in which case, this was mostly Gabriel’s fault, as the majority of things typically were.

“Yes, Dean, Sam knew.” He shrugged, using his tongue to roll his lollipop over to the other side of his mouth. “I approached him first, just a little while ago, before gracing you with my presence. Sam thought with him here the chances of you wasting ammunition on me were significantly lower.”

Furious, Dean glared at the brother biting on his bottom lip and not making eye contact with anyone. “Is that so?”

“He wants to help,” blurted Sam, eyes begging Dean not to be pissed off. Fat chance of that. The freaking Trickster was sitting in the backseat of his baby, and Dean might have to reupholster her just out of spite. “He came here for the same reason we did and offered to watch our backs for us since Cas is gone.” Sam winced at that last part and looked away again.

His brother rolled his eyes, guiding the car onto a new road. “He’s been gone two days, Sam, really? You think we need back up after two freaking days on a case that’s not even a case?”

“What? No, Dean, I-“

“It was my idea,” interjected Gabriel, throwing himself back in his seat. “Since Cas is gone.” Dean spared him only a glance in the rearview. “You looked out for my little bro. Figured I’d return the favor now that he’s, y’know, occupied elsewhere.” The hunter opened his mouth to snarl something, but Gabriel waved a hand dismissively. “And I figured he’s as much worried about you being one man short as the two of you probably are about whether or not he’s got somebody watching his back for him. Sam didn’t tell me that, by the way, but you’re as obvious as a billboard, bucko. I’m doing this as much for him as I am for you.”

Dean parked the Impala in the parking lot leading to and from the trails where they’d first seen the gremlins that led them into a trap. The way he figured, they had to have been awfully close to their goal for the creature to suddenly reveal itself and purposefully lead them away like that. At the time, he’d thought it had been done to fuck with them, but now he was reconsidering the misdirection.

“I wouldn’t get too comfy there, blondie,” snapped Dean, shoving the door open and getting out. Gabriel was already out of the vehicle and leaning against it, examining his nails. “I’m sure Cas will be back anytime.” He stalked off, Sam following after, wisely remaining silent, even if he and Gabriel were exchanging significant looks over the top of the Impala.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Gabriel called after the elder hunter, causing him to freeze in his tracks, but not turn. “In fact, I doubt you’ll see him again while you still walk this earth.”

He did turn then, whirling around and storming over to the angel, grabbing him and throwing him against the side of the car, fists curled in the material of his green jacket. “What do you know?” growled Dean.

Gabriel held up his hands, but his smirk was anything but placating, the perverse enjoyment on his face making Dean angrier still. He slammed Gabriel back against the car again. “What. Do. You. Know?” he roared.

Rolling his eyes, Gabriel said, “That time passes differently from here to there for starters, Chachie. Cassie has been away from home for centuries by their time, and well, he’s still our soldier, so he’s been returned to home base. They’ll make him stay there for centuries to make up for it, that is: centuries in earth terms. His extended vacation’s over, boys.”

Sam was shaking his head, looking as horrified as Dean felt. “What? No. They can’t do that! What about his choice?”

Gabriel gave a lopsided shrug. “Can’t say he exactly got one in the matter. They clipped his wings, metaphorically speaking. He’s stuck there. Couldn’t leave if he wanted. I think they have him organizing and filing backlogged books in Heaven’s library.” His eyes swung around to meet Dean’s. “It’s sort of a solitary punishment, since he’ll never see anyone, but at least he’s not on a battlefield, right?”

“Take me there,” Dean heard himself saying.

The archangel blinked, grin melting into a frown of incomprehension. “What?”

“Take. Me. There.” His glared grew fiercer. “Now.”

Sam clapped a hand onto his brother’s shoulder, trying in vain to pull the older man away from the angel, to refocus him. To no avail. Dean didn’t even glance at the taller male.

Gabriel shrugged. “No can do, bucko. Humans don’t get to just walk into Heaven-“

“You will take us, or so help me God, I will make sure the orders going around the hunter community are that every angel is to be killed on sight, do you understand me?”

“Dean,” hissed his brother.

“Shut up, Sam.” He leaned in closer to Gabriel. “Do we have an understanding, bucko?”

Scowling, Gabriel shoved Dean away from himself. The hunter went easily, the two of them locked in a battle of wills. Even with his much longer life to his credit, Sam still had absolutely no doubt only Cas would beat Dean in a stand off, so when the archangel seemed to melt in unhappy resignation, he wasn’t surprised.

“Fine,” said the blond stiffly, squaring his shoulders. “You wanna get your ass handed to you on a platter, I’ll let you.” He lifted a hand to touch to Dean’s temple, stopping when Sam grabbed him by the forearm.

“Whoa! Whoa! He’s not going alone!” He looked at his brother, their eyes meeting, and yeah, there was no way anyone was talking Dean out of this. “Do you at least have a plan?”

His brother looked away, back at Gabriel. “Just get us there.”

Once again, Gabriel made a move to touch Dean’s temple and Sam yanked on the material of his sleeve. “Dean!” he exclaimed. “If we do this, we can not do this without preparation, weapons to at least defend ourselves with!”

“Defense isn’t exactly what I had in mind, Sammy,” stated Dean, considering. “But you’re right. We have to show we mean business.” Sam rolled his eyes and Dean stepped away from the angel, moving over to unlock and open the truck, digging out daggers and knifes they had carved banishing sigils into. He even pulled out a sword, sheathing it across his back.

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Can we put the suicide mission on hold for just a second before you just, what? Attack Heaven? Are you out of your idiot mind?”

Handing off weapons to his brother, Dean spared Gabe a withering look. “I am not leaving Cas behind.” Flipping out his phone, he called and then quickly explained to Bobby the gist of his plan: they were going to save Cas from the angels, and that if Dean and Sam didn’t call him back, that he was to spread word through the hunter community that all angels were now Public Enemy Number One with orders to kill on sight.

Gabriel was watching him in open-mouthed shock. “You are out of your idiot mind!”

Dean glared at him. “Really? Cuz way I see it? Your people took one of my people and is holding him prisoner.” He stretched his neck in both directions, popping it. “Now take me to Heaven.”

A few seconds later, they were standing on a road straight out of The Wizard of Oz, made of neatly formed bricks that couldn’t be anything other than gold. Dean didn’t care, just started forward to the luminescent gate in front of him, quickly by passing the vast amount of people waiting in line. Sam seemed torn between taking in the beautiful and lush forest on either side of the road leading to the gleaming Gotham-like city in the distance and trying to keep up with his brother on his single-minded mission. Gabriel kept pace with Sam, clearly uneasy as he muttered under his breath about how they were all going to die and he must be crazy and that this was so not worth what he’d signed up for. Yeah, well, he was dealing with Winchesters. What the fuck else could have been expected other than to get in way over his eyeballs?

“Put your game face on, Blondie Bear,” called Dean over his shoulder, making the shorter man scowl. “This is for all the marbles.”

There was a guy standing at a podium searching through a huge book, like he were checking to see if the little guy in front of him really had a reservation or if he was to be turned away at the door. He had spectacles perched on the end of his nose and he only glanced over them once before doing a full on double-take when he saw the trio headed straight for him.

Absently waving the guy through the gates with a wave of one hand, Peter removed his glasses with the other, clearly confused.

“Wha-? Winchesters? You most certainly are not scheduled to be with us today, especially considering your both very much alive.” His gaze drifted to Gabe, who had actually morphed his face into something serious for once. “Gabriel. This is unexpected indeed. Why are you three here?”

The archangel motioned to the boys, inclining his head. “These two seek an audience with the council in regards to a recent series of events that took place on earth Heaven had a hand in.”

Peter blinked, slowing replacing his glasses as his gaze returned to the two humans regarding him with an air that dared him to do anything but comply to their wishes. “I… see.” He steepled his hands together. “Unfortunately, without prior authorization I cannot let you past these gates, for any reason.”

Snorting, Dean turned his furious green eyes on the mother-of-pearl gates. “Azriel!” he roared.

The angel appeared, saluting even, not a second later. “Sir.” She seemed to realize who’d called her then, blinking in surprise as her hand faltered and fell to her side. “Dean Winchester?”

He took a step closer to her, crowding her even. Perplexion morphed her features. “You are to take us before the council. Now.”

She blinked rapidly. “What? No, I can’t-“

“Were or were you not just sent to me to offer amends from your people? Take me to the council!”

Her dark green eyes danced over his face as she said, “Let them in, Peter. They’re with me.”

“I do not have authorization-“

“I authorize it,” snapped Gabriel, glaring at the man. “Or do you forget my rank? Open the gates. Azriel, you will act as escort.” Nodding, she complied, turning and walking away without seeing if they would follow.

Humans waiting to see Peter eyed them warily as they passed. A few glared. Dean knew without looking, Sam was probably projecting his ever faithful, ‘I apologize for my brother. There’s only so much I can do. Just go with it and this should be over quickly’ face. No one in the history of humanity had ever wanted to crawl under a rock and die of mortification because of their sibling more than, or more often than Sam Winchester did. No one.

No one said anything as Azriel led them through the city, down the main street that for all intents and purposes, looked like a regular city: sidewalks, variety of shops, people going to and from with things to do, some with things in hand. Nothing like the other times they’d been to Heaven.

Many people faltered upon seeing them, doing a double take and openly gaping. It became so noticeable that it began making Dean twitchy and nervous.

“Gabriel,” he hissed softly. “Why are they staring? What do they see when they look at us?”

The archangel sighed tiredly. “Two people still very much alive. You radiate with life. Layered with the fact that you are both radiating with the aura of the angel you are the true vessel of, not to mention your own personal brushes with Heaven and Hell in the past. Dean, you glow of Castiel and your time in Hell as a demon. Sam, you’ve got the taint of Hell and demon blood and the pureness of your soul battling it out in a swirl of color.” Shaking his head, he inclined his head to people that actually bowed as they passed. “It’s actually somewhat painful to look at for extended periods. Most people only have one layer. You both have layer after layer after layer of your life complied and on display, and it’s visible for everyone else to see because you are here, but you aren’t dead.”

“And you’re carrying weapons,” added Az flatly.

Flippantly, Gabriel agreed, “Yeah, well, there’s also that.”

Nothing else was said, though Sam did offer shy smiles to anyone he accidentally met gazes with, hoping to tone down the war path aura their little party had to be radiating, with Dean Winchester at the lead, walking right along side Azriel like a soldier prepared for his final battle.

They were brought to a large white building with a domed roof and pristine columns, the vast hallways and massive doors that opened of their own accord to grant them entrance, Azriel leading them until they found themselves in a round room that reminded Dean of Congress, all the angels in suits turning to regard them as all conversation suddenly died off, leaving an awkward and heavy silence.

An angel sitting in an elevated seat at the front of the room angled his head curiously. “Azriel. Why have you brought these people here?” His gaze flicked to the archangel with them. “I must admit I hadn’t expected to see you again, and certainly not like this brother.”

Gabriel waved sheepishly, looking very much like he wanted to be anywhere else right the fuck then. Azriel inclined her head respectfully, motioning to the Winchesters and Gabriel.

“They came here of their own volition and demanded an audience, sir. In light of the fact I was just sent to try and make peace with them, I saw no reason to deny them this request to voice whatever grievances they have.”

Dean stepped forward. “Are you the guy in charge?” The angel arched a brow but said nothing. “Look, your girl here came to us to make amends on behalf of your people. We’re here as the representatives of humanity and Ambassadors of Earth.”

Elbows on the arms of his chair, the angel laced his hands together. Sam shot his brother a worried glance. “Well, Ambassador, what can we do for you today?”

“We stopped your misguided attempt at Armageddon,” stated Dean. “‘We’ being a team of four. Bobby Singer, my brother Sam and I, and an angel named Castiel. In the aftermath of these actions, humanity has come to view the angel Castiel as one of their own, a friend and ally, but more importantly we view him as such.” He took a step forward, glaring at the angel before him. “He was recently called back to Heaven and is being forcibly kept here. We demand that this be corrected and he be allowed to return to earth.”

The angel’s eyebrows raised, though not in surprise exactly. More like disbelief at what he was hearing. “I see. And what if he wishes to stay? He is after all once more among his own people.”

“Then that is his choice and right,” shot back Dean. “Our fight was for the right to free will, and I will not stand by and let him be denied that. He has committed no crime and is a hero of earth. If you continue to keep one of our own here against his will, we will have no choice but to consider these hostile actions to be a declaration of war against humanity.”

Sam wanted to bury his face in his hands, because seriously, Oh Fuck. Only Dean would march into Heaven and threaten a war against the angels. But looking at his brother’s face, Sam had no doubt of the older man’s seriousness. He would not only declare war, he would singe-handedly carry it out if he had to.

Yeah, they were so screwed.


	4. Final Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Cas being held prisoner in Heaven, Dean, Sam, and Gabriel confront the current leaders of the angels, offering an ultimatum.

The air in the room seemed to crackle with tension, no one moving. The angels seemed to be holding a collective breath as Dean continued to stare down the Leader of the House.

Meanwhile, the angel seemed to be regarding Dean in a way that was both amused and annoyed, like, ‘Oh look. A talking ant. Let’s squash it.’

The leader sat back in his seat, head angled to one side. “I find it most curious, Dean Winchester, to see you so emotional over one little angel when you’ve shown nothing but antagonism toward our kind up until present.”

“That had nothing to do with any of you being angels, it had to do with the angels themselves.” He hooked a thumb at the archangel and then to Azriel. “Clearly we are not incapable of being on friendly terms with your people.”

“I see.” He snapped his fingers. “Castiel.”

The angel appeared on the opposite side of the open floor, trench coat billowing around his legs as he strode forward purposefully. Dean noted the tiny furrow of his eyebrows in confusion when the angel saw him, before Castiel regarded the man who had beckoned him.

“You called for me, sir?”

The angel seated on the raised platform regarded the raven-haired man. “These people have come here to liberate you.”

Cas blinked with a start, blue gaze flicking to Dean out of the corner of his eye, then back to the other man. “Beg your pardon?”

The angel smiled and it wasn’t nice. “They’ve offered Heaven an ultimatum, under the impression you are being held prisoner.”

Cas paled, and Dean fought the urge to look demandingly at Gabriel. He hadn’t lied to them about this, had he? Surely not. A glance at the archangel led Dean to believe that no, Gabriel had not lied, and they were still in very real shit.

“May we speak?” questioned Sam politely. The angel inclined his head for permission, and the brunette regarded Cas as the angel turned to face him. “We came here under a banner of peace.” He glanced awkwardly at the weapons he and his brother both carried. “A cautious banner of peace, given previous interactions with the host of Heaven. After your return to Heaven, we received intelligence that you were not to be allowed back to earth for centuries and were being kept in a sort of solitary confinement.”

Dean nodded, his eyes locking with Cas’. “And you know us, we couldn’t stand by when one of our own was in trouble.” He offered a faint smirk, which Cas actually returned. “We explained to, uh, him,” he said, nodding his head at the other angel, “that if you were here willingly, then everything was fine, but if you were being kept here, stripped of your right to free will which is what we all fought so hard for, well, then, we have a problem.”

Nodding, Sam added, “Given our history with angels, and yours after having sided with humanity during their attempt at Armageddon, you can understand our misgivings about your return to Heaven, coupled with the knowledge you were unable to return to Earth even had you wanted to.” He spread his hands. “Of course, if you are not being held here against your will and wish to stay with your own people, we more than understand.”

“How very… diplomatic of you,” stated Cas, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Dean shrugged. “You don’t burn your bridges until you’ve got no choice.”

“In the event you are being kept prisoner,” began the Leader of the House, “the Winchesters have informed us that they will see this as hostile actions and a declaration of war against humanity.”

When Castiel’s eyes widened in alarm, Dean offered a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his head. “Like I said, you know us: Winchester’s are loyal to the point of insanity. My father sold his soul to save my life, I sold mine to save Sam’s, Sam willingly sacrificed himself in order to trap Lucifer back in the cage. You’re family, so there’s nothing we wouldn’t give to save you as well.”

The angel on the platform was still watching them with a sort of twisted amusement Dean found most unsettling, knowing without asking that this angel knew who the Winchesters were, and much like Zachariah and Uriel, did not like them at all.

The leader tilted his head. “I wonder if that’s really all there is to it, Winchester.” He snapped his fingers and a wide rectangular image appeared on the wall, like a projector screen and a video on pause. Dean recognized the image, the blood draining from his face when he realized it was the scene from just the day before when Castiel had received summons, right before Castiel vanished from sight and-

The memory started to play for everyone to see and Gabriel snapped his fingers, causing it to vanish once again.

“That,” he began in a low and threatening voice, “is unnecessarily cruel humiliation fitting of only a bullying child.” His voice was a snarl that made Dean’s hair stand on end. “This is not your court and we are not here for your amusement. I have tolerated these proceedings for long enough and have not pulled rank on you, but if you act like a child, I will treat you like one.” He turned and his once hazel eyes now molten gold swept over the rest of the angels, his body suddenly seeming illuminated from within. “I am Gabriel. Archangel and Messenger of God. He who will sound the trumpet on Judgment Day. The other archangels are no longer here to maintain the order, and while your democratic endeavors are most admirable,” He cast a glare at the Leader of the House, “such prejudice and ill-manner are shameful. You are removed from your position. Castiel,” His gaze swept to his brother. “You are released from your duties and are free to return to earth if you so wish, for as long as you wish. Or you may stay and continue in our Father’s service, but it is your choice, as free will was also one of Our Father’s creations, freely given to any who seek it.”

The glow dimmed and his eyes shifted back to their normal color and they were simply looking at the normal Gabriel again, not Gabriel the Archangel.

He folded his arms, regarding the other angel. “Well?”

Under his scrutiny, Castiel let his gaze wander, first to Sam, then the former Leader of the House, the other angels that made up the council, and finally to Dean, lingering for a moment before moving back to meet Gabriel’s.

“I think my time is best spent here for now.”

\--

It was… quiet when they returned to earth. Tangible silence that hung heavily and awkwardly all around them as they stood in the parking area by the trails where they’d left the Impala.

Azriel returned them to the planet, staying only long enough to fix her gaze on Dean, watching him for a long moment, her mouth even opening to speak before she shut it again, nodded to them both, and disappeared.

Sam cast cautious glances at his brother, not really sure what to say or even where to start. In part, he wanted to offer reassurances, another part wanted to offer condolences. Yet another part wanted to march right back into Heaven and demand that Castiel explain himself for what felt like a backhanded slap to them both.

Dean loved Cas, desperately, and never would have let himself fall so hard or become so loyal and devoted if he ever doubted Cas felt anything but the same in return, perhaps not in a romantic sense, but that he was a part of their family and that he belonged with them on earth. Dean and Sam wouldn’t have been so worried, wouldn’t have made spectacles of themselves if they’d known Cas would rather stay in Heaven than with the humans willing to declare war on his behalf.

Then, there was the small traitorous part that also couldn’t fault Cas for his decision either. Loyalty to Dean, though, wouldn’t allow him to pay that part of himself any mind, so he shoved it away turning to his brother, not sure if when he opened his mouth it would be to be equally indignant with his brother over Cas’ decision, to offer comfort, or to, like they did so often, change the subject entirely so that they did not have to immediately deal with the matter at hand.

Hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, Dean turned and began walking toward the mouth of the trails.

“Wha-? Dean! Where are you going?”

Green eyes glanced at him over his shoulder. “Get the lead out, Sammy. We’ve got a job to do.”

With only a backwards glance over his shoulder toward the rest of the vacant parking lot, Sam took off after his brother.

Dean moved liked a single-minded hunter on a hunt, the muscles of his body tight, his expression stony and hard. Sam really wished he had some way of warning whatever they were after that they were on their way and it probably better get while the getting was good. Once they had found it, Sam didn’t doubt they would all but throw their bags in the Impala in order to put this town in the rearview as fast as possible.

He wasn’t really looking forward to the non-stop hunting he knew would lay ahead of them, probably the more dangerous, the more Dean would be drawn into it, something he could physically take his anger out on.

If they ever did settle down and get a house or something, the first thing Sam would do would be to install a punching bag in the garage for his brother to consult whenever he wanted something to hit and beating his brother to a pulp just wouldn’t suffice.

If Azriel and Gabriel had thought Dean was on a war path when they’d gone to Heaven, it was nothing to the fury rolling off of him in waves now.

Sam knew the goblins and gremlins were keeping pace with them in the woods as they walked, a scurry of shadow in the underbrush just outside the line of his vision. Nothing interfered though, as if they seemed to sense something seriously wasn’t right here either. Dean marched forward like he knew exactly where he was head, and Sam followed after, carefully keeping his mouth shut and his mind focused.

When they came to the clearing, Dean’s footing faltered, but his features never changed from grave seriousness and general ‘I am going to find something and then I am going to kill until it is dead’ expression, even as multiple sets of eyes swivels to regard them.

Gip waved sheepishly, then sensing Dean’s mood seemed to cringe in on itself, hand moving instead to removed its hat and wring it nervously.

Gabriel and the little boy he was apparently deep in conversation with also turned their heads to regard him. Sam’s gaze flicked to Gabriel, silently trying to convey a series of questions in an instant, before his eyes slid to the to the brunette little boy watching them with mismatched eyes.

“You found me,” stated the child, his tone a little congratulatory.

“We did,” agreed Dean. “Who are you?”

“This,” began Gabriel, motioning to the little boy, “is his Royal Highness, Prince Daniel, son of the King and Queen of the Goblins, rulers of the Labyrinth, overseers of the Underground, and caretakers of those who are lost or become wished away.”

The boy preened under the pride at who his parents were, but inclined his head politely to both the Winchesters in greeting. “You may simply call me Daniel.”

Dean nodded his head just once. “Okay, Daniel, what are you?”

“Fae,” he said simply. “Or, half-fae, since my mother was originally human, but when she married my father and became Lady of the Labyrinth, she became one of them to a certain extent. My father’s magic is much stronger than hers in most aspects.”

“You said you’re from the Underground?” echoed Sam, glancing at Gabriel for clarification.

“Alternate dimension where most elements of the good folklore live,” explained the archangel. “They use to live here as well, but the bad monsters took over because they don’t require being believed in to thrive.”

Approaching the small boy, Dean knelt in front of him. “Okay, Daniel, now let me explain something to you about this particular world, okay? In this world, there are people like us that know the supernatural exist, but in this world, the majority of those things are bad. Bad enough that it’s our job to hunt as many of them down and kill them, in order to keep people safe. You?” He shook his head. “You didn’t hurt anyone so we’re okay with you, but it might not be safe for you to play in this realm and start trouble again, because, well other hunters might go ahead and hurt you out of fear that when you do grow up, you might become a threat to the people in this world. Do you understand?”

When Daniel nodded, Dean reached up to ruffle his already messy brown hair before standing to his feet. “Good.” He glanced around. “Now, you probably better take your friends and get on home before your parents get worried. And uh, unless you’ve got magic like your dad or something, I probably wouldn’t come over here without a grownup in the future, okay?”

The boy nodded, dropping his gaze to his hand, he lifted it, whirling his wrist around so that it was palm up and a small glass orb now sat in the center of his hand. “Very well. Take this then. As a gift. If I should ever come to visit again, it will also allow me to find you.”

Brows furrowing together, Dean took the apple-sized orb, considering it in his hand with a curious tilt of his head. Sam leaned over to peer at the thing as well. “Uh, thank you, I guess. What is it?”

The boy blinked his wide mismatched eyes, one brown, one green, and said, “It’s, well, it’s one of my parents’ favorite things, actually. My father uses them to see where other people are, especially if they are having to undergo the Challenge of the Labyrinth. It lets you see anyone, no matter where they are.” Dean noticeably stiffened at that, his grip tightening on the orb like a vice, making Sam wonder how the delicate thing didn’t shatter. “But it will also show you your favorite memories, and that’s what my mother likes to use it for. When she tell me stories, she uses the orb or either acts out the different parts, sometimes Sir Didymus will help. He’s charged with looking after me.”

The elder Winchester nodded to the little boy. “We’ll take good care of it then, if it’s something so valuable.”

The boy laughed like that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Oh no, silly. That’s alright. The orb can take care of itself. You can’t break it and you can’t lose it. It’ll always come back to you and bounces if you drop it.”

Pocketing the item, Dean kept his fingers wrapped around the cool glass crystal. “That’s good to know then.” He glanced at Gabriel, Gip, and then the boy again. “Now, how do we get you home safely?”

“That won’t be necessary,” a female voice offered, causing them to turn and the boy’s face to light up. “I’ve come to take him home.”

“Momma!” cried the boy, rushing forward to throw his small arms around her waist and bury his face in the brunette woman’s abdomen.

She smiled affectionately, petting down her son’s uncontrollable hair. “Have you been a good boy, Daniel?”

Her merry green eyes lifted to meet Dean’s, just as Sam elbowed him hard in the ribs, and they both inclined their heads respectfully, slightly bowing at the waist. She nodded in return, straightening as her son moved to stand by her side, his tiny hand seeking hers. Her simple white dress made her look like something out of a painting, and Dean almost swore he had seen her likeness somewhere before, though perhaps younger.

“Thank you for looking after my son. I’ll take your advice to heart as far as his traveling to this realm. Though I am originally from this realm, I was not aware that magical creatures resided in it, nor that my son might be confused with the threats you described.”

Dean shook his head. “No, it’s not… Magic exist here, yeah, but it’s the bad kind. Everything here that’s supernatural or magical is usually very, very bad. If they weren’t, we wouldn’t have a job. We’re Hunters, and people that become hunters always do so because they were either raised in this life or came into it willingly when something of the dark cost them someone dear.” He shrugged. “For us, it was both. My mother was killed when I was younger than him,” he told her, indicating her son. “Sam here was six months old. From then on, our father raised us into warriors so we could hunt monsters and save lives.” He shrugged. “It’s what we do, because the things out there don’t give you any choice but to have to hunt them down.” Angling his head, he regarded her. “Just do me a favor and always make sure Daniel is taught the difference between what makes him good and what would make him our job to deal with.”

Normally, Sam would have snapped at his brother, corrected him for basically threatening this woman and her child, but at the same time, they needed to understand the rules of this world and how it differed from their own, because it was different. Sam felt Dean probably still would have given the kid fair warning regardless. He hadn’t done anything to hurt anyone, but he was magical, and everything in their world seemed to become a threat to humanity eventually, no matter how innocent it started out.

Hell, they were proof enough of how twisted you could become from your true self.

Lecture finished, Dean softened, forcing a half-hearted smile for the kid. “You’re pretty clever with your tricks, I’ll give you that. I could have done without getting pink ooze dumped on me, but waking up in a room covered in glitter was pretty funny, and that musical part of your tricks was pretty creative. We’ve never had something like that happen before.”

The child blinked owlishly at him. “The singing wasn’t me.” His head swung around to regard Gabriel. “He did that.”

Both Winchesters’ eyes moved slowly over to Gabriel, suddenly cold and angry. The archangel shifted awkwardly, clearing his throat and shoving his hands into his pockets, look both guilty and very uncomfortable.

“There’s a, uh, very good explanation for that, actually,” he insisted. Even Daniel’s mother gave him an expectant look, one elegant eyebrow arching in question. “I was trying to teach the kid to branch out and get more creative. His tricks were harmless, but they lacked, uh, flare. For the most part, it was just fun watching people break into synchronized song and dance, innocent, no harm no foul.” He glanced at them. “You, uh, three were the only ones that the spell deviated from pattern on.”

“You ended it, right?”

Gabriel nodded rapidly, hands raised. “Yes. Totally. As soon as I offered to help you with the case since Cas was gone.”

Which was actually very smart on the archangel’s part, Sam thought. The last thing any of them would have needed was for Cas to have come back with them and for that to trigger Dean bursting into a round of “I’m So Excited”.

Though he had nothing to go on on this, Sam thought if that were to happen, Dean might go to very extreme lengths, like oh say hiring a witch, in order for their memories of that to be erased. And maybe putting each of them in the hospital due to blunt force trauma to the head in the hopes they would blame any such memory, lingering or otherwise, on a concussion, because no way on God’s green earth would Dean Winchester ever leave himself wide open to life-long teasing and mocking like that. Ever. Instead, he would make certain it could never be believed as having actually happened.

“Well, thank you again,” Daniel’s mother said, “for playing with my son and keeping him out of trouble.”

When they were finally gone and the Winchesters and angel were left alone, Dean turned on his heel and began to stalk away, Sam shooting Gabriel a glare before following after, and then, with a heavy sigh, the angel followed suit.

As he walked, Dean slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket, seeking and finding the orb therein, his fingers wrapping around it tightly. So badly did he want to pull it out and see if he really could use it to see anyone he wanted, no matter where they were, that he clenched it all the more tightly in his hand, to the point his fingers hurt, so tightly it should have shattered under the pressure, the glass embedding itself deep into his palm.

He didn’t look though. Didn’t, though he wanted to with the desperation of a drowning man. He wanted a lot of things, the first being to understand. He wanted to understand how Castiel could choose to remain in Heaven, why he would choose that over what he could have on earth, how he could still remain loyal to a God who wasn’t there and to siblings who had just been forcing him to stay there.

Though they’d made it clear Castiel had the option to stay in Heaven had he wanted, Dean in no way ever thought the angel would have chosen it. He knew Sam hadn’t either. If either of them had, well, they wouldn’t have basically stormed the castle like they did. There would have been no need for a rescue mission if the person being held hadn’t wanted rescuing, which Dean had been so sure Cas would have been glad for.

The look on the angel’s expression and his decision to stay in Heaven seemed to, in Dean’s mind, contradict each other. He hadn’t wanted to go in the first place, Dean was certain of that, so then why…

The hunter sighed in relief as they emerged from the trail, leaving the lush greenery and foliage of the forest behind them, with its damp earth and palette of green. He wanted miles of highway and their next case in front of him now, to put this small town and its-

His breath left his body in a rush at the sight of the person leaning casually back against the Impala, head tilted up toward the sky as he waited, hands tucked into the pockets of his trench coat.

“Cas,” exhaled Dean, not believing his eyes. He heard a surprised sound from the two men that had been walking behind him, both ignored as Dean surged forward in a hurricane of confusion. “Cas!” he called out.

The angel turned his head and straightened, smiling just slightly as Dean approached and stopped a foot or two away from him. “Hello, Dean.”

The other man’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, his gaze wandering over the angel in disbelief, then back up to his face. “Did you, uh, forget something?” Blinking, Cas tilted his head in confusion. “You decided to stay in Heaven. Why are you here?”

The angel huffed with amusement. “My apologies, Dean, as I was not clear. My stay was temporary. With Gabriel having deseated the Leader of the House, I knew my presence would be required in establishing a better sense of order to Heaven. I’ve informed them that leaders should make a habit of being on friendlier terms with you and Sam. The angels live in a protective bubble, which can give way to corruption if they do not seek counsel outside of their own people. I suspect we’ll be seeing much more of Azriel in the future.” He paused, considering. “She asked that I also remind you that their offer still stands and that she hopes next time she sees you, you’ll have a better idea of what you wish for your future.”

With a bitter laugh, Dean crossed the space between them and threw his arms around Cas’ neck, hugging him tightly. “You stupid sonuvabitch,” he rasped, clinging. “Do you have any idea how worried we were? How mad I was when you decided to stay? To pick those douchebags over the family willing to start a war for you?”

Discreetly, Gabriel reached out and took Sam by the elbow, transporting them both back to the motel. They could at least get their bags and stuff together while they waited.

Wrapping his arms around the hunter’s torso, Cas hugged him back, smiling into the material of Dean’s jacket, before lifting his head to say, “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“You should be,” the other man told him, releasing him, one hand absently cupping the angel’s jaw then clamping on his shoulder before falling away.

“Azriel and the other already have a basic gift set aside for you and your brother,” Cas began conversationally. “What they plan to give to you outside of whatever it is you might request. The ability to retire should you wish to, funds so that both you and Sam will be able to go to school in order to pursue whatever avenue of life you would like. Even to grant you the information you would have already gained in the years after basic schooling you gave up in order to hunt.”

Dean’s eyebrows went up in surprise, his hands resting on his hips. “Generous.”

The angel inclined his head. “She also said the offer of compensation extends to both Bobby and myself, that we would be granted whatever it was we wanted in our future.”

The hunter angled his head. “Oh yeah?” The angel nodded solemnly. “What is that you want?” wondered Dean, genuinely curious.

A small smiled played across the angel’s features, his eyes taking in the different details of the face in front of him. “I’m looking at what I want in my future.”

Color burned across Dean’s cheeks even as his face broke off into a grin. “Yeah? Funny that… because so am I.”

\--  
One Year Later

Using his forward momentum, Dean let his socks slide across the hardwood floor of the kitchen, shouldering his messenger bag with one hand and flailing for the slice of toast that had just popped out of the toaster with the other. Castiel snatched the toast away before he could grab it, frowning in disapproval at the plain piece of bread.

“My breakfast,” cried Dean indignantly, dropping the shoes that had been tucked under his arm, and forcing his feet into them.

Castiel tutted and moved over to the fridge, removing a small glass container with a lid, and then a butter knife from the drawer before spreading the garlic herb mixture he’d made the day before across the toast and stuffing the corner of it into Dean’s awaiting mouth. In the background, music drifted through the kitchen, adding even more life to the already chaotically rushed household that morning.

“There,” he said with satisfaction as his boyfriend happily chewed a mouthful. “Breakfast should have flavor.”

Dean pressed a kiss to his cheek, rushing to grab the to-go mug of coffee the angel had already had waiting for him. “I’m not entirely sure garlic-herb is breakfast qualified, but I’ll take it.” He paused by the door to yell up the stairs. “Sam! We’re going to be late for class!”

“I’m coming!” insisted his younger brother, flying down the steps looking as half-hazard as Dean had a minute ago, throwing his book bag over his shoulder even as he struggled to get one of his shoes on.

Dean pointed to the gleaming silver pole in the corner. “Why didn’t you just use the fireman’s pole? It would have been faster.”

Sam scowled at him. “Because despite the fact that this use to be a fire station, it isn’t anymore, Dean.” Cas brought Sam a piece of toast to eat on the way to school as well, the taller man nodding his thanks and biting into it. “I will never stop being grateful he developed an interest in culinary school.”

Dean waved him off, grabbing his keys off the hook by the door. “Stop flirting,” he said, opening the door and darting out of it with Sam right on his heels. “He’s already taken.”

“Have a good day,” Cas called after them, receiving over the shoulder waves in return as both men practically dove into the Impala.

Closing the door, Cas returned to the kitchen and the recipe he was working on for his own classes. Gabriel snapped his fingers, the coffee pot appearing in hand to refill his mug as he sat at the kitchen table looking over his own textbooks and project for school. When he’d finished with the coffee pot, Azriel leaned over to take it from him, filling up her own glass as she continued to read the paper.

“Y’know,” she began conversationally, causing both of her brothers to glance at her. “No matter how much your lives change, you never fail to be an interesting sight to behold.”

Gabriel arched a brow. “Why? Because I’m an archangel who wants to open his own chocolaterie, and Cas is going to school in order to have a cooking show that would put Julia Child and Rachel Ray to shame? Because the Winchesters turned in their guns and ammo for book bags and homework? Good morning, by the way.”

“Yes,” she said simply. Then added, “Good morning. It’s also because the heroes of the apocalypse can barely get out the door and to their first classes of the morning on time without help.”

“That’s what makes them worthy of being earth’s heroes,” stated Cas, offering them each a plate of breakfast. “They’re real people who are always true to themselves and to others whether they’re saving lives by fighting monsters or going to school so they can save lives in a different way.”

Her dark green eyes regarded the man sitting across the table from her. “I don’t fully understand why you’re here all the time though. You don’t live with them exactly, do you? You’re already moonlighting as a Pagan god, aren’t you?”

He snapped his fingers, replacing the stuffed crepe suzettes Cas had made with various chocolate truffles instead, causing the other man to sigh and roll his eyes. “That was part of the deal I made with Sam,” Gabriel said, regarding the truffles and the recipes for each of them and their ingredients. “If I helped them get Cas back, I would be allowed to be apart of their lives. At the time, I had thought it would mean hunting, but I find I much like this turn of events as well.” He snapped his fingers and the truffles were suddenly in a carefully packaged to-go container, along with another filled with the crepe suzettes, and then in the next instant gone. “One slice of toast each won’t be enough,” he said by way of explanation.

“I think what Gabriel is saying,” began Cas, glancing once in the crystal orb on the shelf by the sink, and smiling at the image of Dean it showed him, “is that if you meet the Winchesters and aren’t immediately drawn in by them-“

“It’s because you have no soul,” finished Gabriel, snapping another serving of his breakfast into existence and digging in greedily.

Cas offered Azriel a serene smile over his shoulder. “Exactly.”

THE END


End file.
